


Kinktober 2020 : Kamari333 Edition

by Kamari333



Series: Kamari333 Kinktober Archive [4]
Category: Undertail - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Armpit Kink, BDSM, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood Kink, Body Worship, Bodyswap, Bondage, Boot Worship, Breast Fucking, Breathplay, Breeding, Bukkake, Burnplay, Casting Couch is a Kink Apparently, Cock Warming, Collars, Contains Plague Doctor, Creampie, Crossdressing, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Dancetale Sans (Undertale), Dancetale Sans/Underfell Sans/Underlust Sans (Undertale), Degradation, Detailed Tags in Chapter Summary and Notes, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Dr33mtal3 Sans | Dream (Undertale), Dr33mtal3 Sans | Nightmare (Undertale), Dr33mtal3 Sans | Nightmare/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Emetophilia, Empathic Bonds, Exhibitionism, Face-Sitting, Food Kink, Food Sex, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Forced Orgasm, Formalwear, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Free Use is a Kink Apparently, Frottage, Fucking Machines, Gags, Glory Hole, Gunplay, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, Human Furniture, Humiliation, Impact Play, Incest, Intercrural Sex, Knifeplay, Knotting, Lamiatale Sans (Undertale), Laughter, Laughter During Sex, Leashes, Lingerie, M/M, Macro/Micro, Mafiafell Sans/Outertale Sans (Undertale), Marking, Masks, Masochism, Massage, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Kink, Mirror Sex, Multi, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outertale Sans (Undertale), Overstimulation, Pegging, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Public Sex, Reapertale Sans (Undertale), Role Reversal, Sacrum Lacing, Sadism, Scars, Scent Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Shotgunning, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Skull Fucking, Something New Sans | Killer (Undertale), Somnophilia, Soul Sex, Soul fondling, Sounding, Stockings, Stripping, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Sweat, Teasing, Temperature Play, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Threesome - M/M/M, Tickling, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underfell Sans/Underlust Sans (Undertale), Underlust Sans (Undertale), Underpatch Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Unrealistic Sex, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, Watersports, Wax Play, Xtale Sans | Cross (Undertale), _____tale Sans | Ink (Undertale), distention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 74,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: Kamari333's Kinktober shorts, following the prompts set alongHERE.Some days are hits. Some are misses. You be the judge if you choose to read.Individual tags in the summaries and notes.Functional Table of Contents included!
Relationships: Grillby/Sans (Undertale), Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Kamari333 Kinktober Archive [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660510
Comments: 591
Kudos: 316
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	1. Day 00: Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> This year has been hard on all of us. Lets have some god damn fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Table of Contents!  
> So we can all find the sin we want quick and easy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do pay attention to the tags and warnings, and if you like something, let me know with a comment if you have the time!

_**HI FOLKS!** _

Beyond this point you will find 72.5?k words of pure, unadulterated, self indulgent, Undertail-themed _SIN_ , ~57.7k of which was prewritten in September, the rest in October, all written and published for Kinktober2020. This year, due to conflicting schedules, the sin was written in September, to be published on time in October. Please note that there may be plenty of typos, although I will/have since gone back and fixed some of them since I'm garbage and read my own stuff, and this year I have been indulging in the use of my lovely betas!

For quick and easy perusal I am putting a Table of Contents here.

Please remember to check the detailed tags and warnings in each chapter's summary and notes!

* * *

**Day 00: Table of Contents** <=== YOU ARE HERE

[Day 01: Cutting and Overflowing Emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65245288)  
**Prompts:** Omorashi | Knifeplay | Body swap  
**Kinks:** BDSM, Blindfolds, Voyeurism  
**Pairing:** RottenCherryBerry (Swapfell Sans / Underfell Sans / Underswap Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~3.2k 

[Day 02: Warmth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65294722)  
**Prompts:** Human furniture | Sounding | Macro/micro  
**Kinks:** Biting, Overstimulation, Master/Slave Play, Temperature Play, Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Lamia!Sans (OC) / Underlust!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity, snakes  
**Length in Words:** ~1.5k 

[Day 03: Medicinal Affection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65346133)  
(Part 2 of 'The Fuckening' -- [Part 1 Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753746/chapters/65270494))  
**Prompts:** ~~Fisting~~ | Medicalplay | ~~Orgasm denial~~  
**Kinks:** Bondage, Masks, Scent, Sounding, Toys, Fellatio, Anal  
**Pairing:** Falsi (Sans!OC) / Dancetale!Sans / Killer (Sans!OC)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Contains Plague Doctor  
**Length in Words:** ~3.2k 

[Day 04: Promises](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65399044)  
**Prompts:** Incest | Breathplay | ~~Leather/Latex~~  
**Kinks:** Bondage; Heavy Petting; Tentacles; Forced Orgasm  
**Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dreammare (Dream/Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Yandere; Noncon; implied threats of dismemberment  
**Length in Words:** ~1.1k 

[Day 05: Reparations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65461642)  
**Prompts:** Double penetration in two holes | Boot worship | ~~Lactation~~  
**Kinks:** Tentacles; Gagging; Sounding; Forced Orgasms; Overstimulation; Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Underswap!Papyrus/Dr33mtal3!Nightmare & Dr33mtal3!Nightmare/Cross  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Implied Past Abuse  
**Length in Words:** ~2k 

[Day 06: A Dream left Hanging](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65512072)  
**Prompts:** Free Use | Sensory deprivation | Waxplay  
**Kinks:** Bondage; Masochism  
**Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dream / ???  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~600 

[Day 07: Flowering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65562211)  
**Prompts:** ~~Rimming~~ | Breeding | Tentacles  
**Kinks:** Heat; Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Sounding, Teasing  
**Pairing:** Honeycider (Dr33mtal3!Nightmare / Underswap!Papyrus)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~1.6k 

[Day 08: Interview](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65610493)  
**Prompts:** ~~Menophilia~~ | Casting couch | Bukkake  
**Kinks:** Overstimulation, Temperature Play, Teasing  
**Pairing:** Underlust!Sansby+ (Underlust! Grillby / Sans w/ Doggo, GD, LD)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; weird cum; implied/referenced prostitution  
**Length in Words:** ~1.5k 

[Day 09: Misunderstandings and Something Beautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65660620)  
**Prompts:** Pegging | Emetophilia | Clone sex/selfcest  
**Kinks:** Aphrodisiacs; Overstimulation; Scent; Praise  
**Pairing:** Ink (_____tale!Sans) / Dr33mtal3!Nightmare  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Noncon/Dubcon; Intoxication/Drugs  
**Length in Words:** ~2.5k 

[Day 10: Sleep With Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65709643)  
**Prompts:** Mommy/Daddy kink | Somnophilia | ~~Scissoring~~  
**Kinks:** Teasing; Dacryphilia; Scars; Orgasm Denial; Knotting; Breeding  
**Pairing:** Underfell!Papyrus / Underpatch!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~1.9k 

[Day 11: Sugar, Socks, and Sex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65759962)  
**Prompts:** Watersports | Temperature play | Stockings  
**Kinks:** Kissing; Scent; Tentacles; Fingering  
**Pairing:** Honeycider (Dr33mtal3!Nightmare / Underswap!Papyrus)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k 

[Day 12: Lust and Love 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65813902)  
**Prompts:** Feet | Shotgunning | Dacryphilia  
**Kinks:** Teasing; Overstimulation; Orgasm Denial; Biting; Marking; Scars; Dirty Talk  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; weed  
**Length in Words:** ~2.8k 

[Day 13: Capable Hands 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65866753)  
**Prompts:** Body worship | ~~Spanking~~ | Frottage  
**Kinks:** Heavy Petting; Kisses; Soul Fondling; Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** FirstStarBerry (Outertale!Sans / Underswap!Sans / Undertale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; mentions of injury; chronic illness  
**Length in Words:** ~1.9k 

[Day 14: No Escape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65914000)  
**Prompts:** ~~NTR~~ | Face-sitting | Collaring  
**Kinks:** Orgasm Denial; Tentacles  
**Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dream / Reapertale!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Kidnapping; Noncon; Body Horror; Yandere  
**Length in Words:** ~1.3k 

[Day 15: Yours, Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65963254)  
**Prompts:** Prostitution | Armpit | Massage  
**Kinks:** Anal; Dirty Talk  
**Pairing:** Rust (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans) ; also Lust!Sans/Fell!Aaron  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Jealousy; smoop  
**Length in Words:** ~2k 

[Day 16: A Shopping Trip](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66009799)  
**Prompts:** Fucking machine | ~~Feederism~~ | Intercrural sex  
**Kinks:** Voyeurism; Exhibitionism; Empathic Bonds; Soul Play; Collars; Blindfolds; Sounding; Teasing; Orgasm Control; Orgasm Denial  
**Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Cross (XTale!Sans) / Killer (Sans!OC)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~3.7k 

[Day 17: A Dress Up Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66059176)  
**Prompts:** Three (or more) some | Master/slave | Titfucking  
**Kinks:** Collars; Praise; Scent; Empathic Bonds; Role Reversal  
**Pairing:** HoneyKrossmare (Underswap!Papyrus / Dr33mtal3!Nightmare / Killer / Cross)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
**Length in Words:** ~4.7k 

[Day 18: Yes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66108400)  
**Prompts:** Petplay | Humiliation | Bloodplay  
**Kinks:** Collars; Degredation; Praise; Masochism  
**Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dream / Underswap!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Implied/Referenced Cross having fun  
**Length in Words:** ~2.8k 

[Day 19: Rick Roll but It's Sanscest I Guess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66165817)  
**Prompts:** ~~Hate sex~~ | Cockwarming | Mirror sex  
**Kinks:** Soul Play; Anal; Praise  
**Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Killer (Sans!OC)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; dissociative episodes; implied/referenced therapy  
**Length in Words:** ~2.9k 

[Day 20: The First Day of the Rest of His Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66213178)  
**Prompts:** Noncon/dubcon | Foodplay | Creampie  
**Kinks:** Heavy Petting; Fingering; Sounding; Omorashi; Tentacles; Belly Rubs; Toys; Kissing  
**Pairing:** Dreammare (Dream/Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; yandere; dismemberment  
**Length in Words:** ~2.2k 

[Day 21: Showing Off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66251032)  
**Prompts:** Size difference | Exhibitionism/voyeurism | Impact play  
**Kinks:** Sounding, Sacrum Lacing, Oral, Blindfolds, Control, BDSM, Empathic Bonds  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; accidental flashing; wardrobe malfunction  
**Length in Words:** ~5.6k 

[Day 22: Held Close](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66291130)  
**Prompts:** Formal wear | Overstimulation | Sadomasochism  
**Kinks:** Voice, Crying, Voyerism, Medical Play, Scent, Kissing  
**Pairing:** KillerCream (Killer / Cross / Dream) (/Falsi [Sans!OC])  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Contains Plague Doctor; blood (or analogous); body horror (or analagous)  
**Length in Words:** ~2.9k 

[Day 23: Capable Hands 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66325777)  
**Prompts:** Double penetration in one hole | Tickling | Shower sex  
**Kinks:** Hands; Laughter; Souls  
**Pairing:** FirstStarBerry (Outertale!Sans / Underswap!Sans / Undertale!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~1.5k 

[Day 24: A Taste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66364540)  
**Prompts:** Sweat | ~~Branding~~ | Masturbation  
**Kinks:** Helplessness; Heavy Petting; Hand Jobs; Voice; Scent  
**Pairing:** Slinky (Lamia!Sans OC) / Falsi (Sans!OC)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Nonconsensual Biting; Poisoning; Contains Plague Doctor  
**Length in Words:** ~3.3k 

[Day 25: Ask and Receive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66403615)  
**Prompts:** Bondage | Gunplay | ~~Inflation~~  
**Kinks:** Dirty Talk; Adrenaline; Teasing  
**Pairing:** Mafiafell!Sans / Outertale!Sans  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; excessive plot; kidnapping; implied/referenced drugging; implied/referenced murder; panic attacks  
**Length in Words:** ~3k 

[Day 26: Lust and Love 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66448148)  
**Prompts:** Stripping | ~~Scat~~ | Burnplay  
**Kinks:** Teasing, Kissing, Shotgunning; Orgasm Control; Dirty Talk; Biting; Scars  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; weed  
**Length in Words:** ~1.5k 

[Day 27: Red gets to be a Sadist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66496252)  
**Prompts:** Public sex | Role reversal | Xenophilia  
**Kinks:** Bondage; Socket Fucking; Orgasm Denial; Toys; Degredation; Dirty Talk; Collars; Leashes; Empathic Bonds  
**Pairing:** Rust (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~2.4k 

[Day 28: Lust and Love 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66545815)  
**Prompts:** Crossdressing | Lingerie | Distention  
**Kinks:** Collars; Feet; Fellatio; Orgasm Control; Cock Warming; Anal; Swallowing  
**Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~2.1k 

[Day 29: Monster in the Closet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66594727)  
**Prompts:** Praise kink | Glory hole | ~~Telepathic bonds~~  
**Kinks:** Tentacles; Oral; Sounding; Orgasm Control  
**Pairing:** Crightmoss (Nightmare/Cross)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
**Length in Words:** ~2k 

[Day 30: Cross' Punishment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66642925)  
**Prompts:** Sex Toys | Deep-throating | Stuck in wall  
**Kinks:** Orgasm Denial; Sounding; Crying; Sacrum Lacing; Kissing  
**Pairing:** Cross (Xtale!Sans) / Everyone  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; light dubcon  
**Length in Words:** ~1.8k 

[Day 31: Free to Do](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66696010)  
**Prompts:** Free day, any of the above, any combination, or whatever you want  
**Kinks:** Oral; Teasing; Size Difference; Overstimulation  
**Pairing:** MoneyCider (Swapfell!Papyrus / Dr33mtal3!Nightmare)  
**Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; references to drug use; euphamisms to drug use  
**Length in Words:** ~1.2k 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> burlesque: 4  
> honeycider: 4  
> be mean to cross: 6
> 
> ishddhekbddkdbkdbdfjfbnfnf


	2. Day 01: Cutting and Overflowing Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Omorashi | Knifeplay | Body swap  
>  **Kinks:** BDSM, Blindfolds, Voyeurism  
>  **Pairing:** RottenCherryBerry (Swapfell Sans / Underfell Sans / Underswap Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~3.2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting off with my Kinktober exclusive rottencherryberry <3

Black should have known something was coming. The sparkle in his friend’s eyes was on the wrong side of mischief, the lilt in his cheery voice too slick with satisfaction. In hindsight, Blue had been up to something for some time, and damn if Black shouldn't have seen it coming.

The three of them, Red, Black, and Blue, were sharing a nice, pleasant lunch of tacos and tea. Red was slumped over his empty plate, full and sated and well into his midday nap (the slob- no, Black was not fond, shut up, he had standards-). Blue wiped sweat off his datemate's brow, then draped a blanket over his shoulders and head to block out the light.

Black had his guard down, taking a sip of his goldenflower tea with only the slightest hint of honey and sugar.

"SO DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN THE TWO OF YOU SWAPPED BODIES ON A DARE WITHOUT TELLING ME A FEW MONTHS BACK?"

Black spat out his tea, coughing as the substance slid down the wrong metaphorical pipe.

"I WILL TAKE THAT AS A YES!" Blue all but purred.

Black wiped at his face with a napkin. "YES. WELL." It was hard to forget his awakening as a creature of carnal pleasures. Not that he was ever going to admit that. Blue's ego was sizable enough as it was.

"DO YOU THINK YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO IT AGAIN?"

Black looked down at Red, scratching absently at his chest. He did have fun... "I SUPPOSE. IF RED DOES NOT OBJECT. BUT DO NOT THINK THIS IS SOMETHING THAT OTHERS NEED TO KNOW." It was bad enough Blue and Red knew he was... fine, yes, the word he was looking for was 'fine', being in such a slovenly body. No one else needed to know that about him. He had an image to maintain.

"PERFECT!" Blue chirped, starting to clear the dishes. "WE'LL PLAN FOR A MONTH FROM NOW! I KNOW JUST THE GAME WE SHOULD PLAY, AND RED ALREADY SAID HE WOULD ENJOY IT!" Giggling, he took his spoils to the kitchen, leaving Black alone with the unsuspecting Red to ponder their future activities.

* * *

Black was pacing in front of the UnderSwap shed, clutching his wrist behind his back with his other hand. The snow was falling soft in the evening light, glittering on the imprint of his restless footsteps. He was three minutes early, and glad for the few moments to gather his nerve. He marveled at how much easier it was to march to battle than march to the intimacy of vulnerability.

Black's choice of drink sat heavy in his middle, its passage through his system seemingly exacerbated by the chill. He quickened his pacing, cruel glee turning his nervous smirk to one of certain victory. His plan to win the game was flawless.

Ever prompt, Blue showed up with Red on his arm, smiling like the cat who got the cream. Red was fidgety, shifting from foot to foot and avoiding direct eye contact. He was either very anxious or very aroused, and Black wouldn't be certain of which until he got close enough to taste him. Blue unlocked the shed door, humming as he led the way inside.

Black, being the last one in, shut and locked the door, following them around the corner to the stage of their scene.

Blue had pulled out all the stops once again, with padded furniture and bondage tools set aside neatly. Black picked his usual seat, relaxing back in the chair and tugging on his gloves. He glanced over at Red, who was settled in his own seat, shucking off his coat with shaky fingers.

"WHENEVER YOU TWO ARE READY!" Blue, ever calm, politely reminded them he was waiting.

Red took a deep breath, then pulled out his SOUL. He handed it over to Blue, that trusting, calm face taking over as he settled into his role. Blue, the sentimental sap, leaned in close to him, tilting his chin up and stealing a long, sweet kiss, the kind that made Red squirm in his seat and clutch the arms of the chair so hard his claws left scratch marks on the undersides. Blue didn't even need to pull out of the kiss, his hands settling Red's SOUL in his lap before deftly securing the cuffs around Red's wrists, pinning his arms in place on the arms of the chair. Red gave a few halfhearted tugs at the bindings as Blue scooped his SOUL back up to nuzzle.

Seeing those joints flushed a vivid crimson, Blue kissed his boyfriend one last time before turning to Black.

Black pretended like he hadn't been watching them exchange slime, crisply pulling out his own SOUL for the trade. It was easier that way, 'like ripping off a band-aid' as the saying went. Blue gently coaxed the calloused item close to his chest, cradling it, his affectionate, jubilant intent scorching Black down to his core. Black found it was easier to inspect the patterns in the walls than look at Blue.

Blue had other ideas, coming close enough to press his frontal bone to Black's. "I HAVE YOU. THANK YOU FOR DOING THIS WITH US. WITH ME."

Black swallowed, as if it would clear whatever stood between him and words. It was a futile effort, since Blue took advantage of his vulnerability to take a kiss. Black was gracious enough to allow it, since Blue needed it so badly. Black certainly didn't need such soft touches.

Before Black really knew what was happening, Blue had his wrists secured to the chair as well, both SOULs in hand, and was looking pretty smug with himself. Black gave a few testing tugs of his own, keeping his breathing even and his legs closed.

"ARE YOU BOTH READY FOR THE TRADE?" Blue asked, ever considerate.

"yeah," Red said, shifting in his seat.

"GET ON WITH IT," Black ordered.

Stars in his eyelights, a grin on his face as sharp as any smirk, Blue gently pressed Red's SOUL into Black's chest.

Black's vision gave out, and for an indefinite period of time, he had absolutely no idea what was happening. All he knew was that someone was holding him and he was safe. Black did not need to panic. He was safe.

Then the moment was over, and Black shook himself back to consciousness. He felt sweaty and tense. Every shift of his body made his bones spark with pleasure, oversensitive and alive. His magic snapped into place, steely blue alighting the joints of his borrowed body as his dick strained against his shorts. Even that was friction enough to have Black squirming, shivers of need going up and down his spine.

"the fuck is-" Red's voice started, only to be cut off by a sharp smack.

"Language," Blue scolded in his lower, more serious voice.

Black looked up. There was Red, in Black's (incredibly attractive) body, the crimson of his magic alighting his joints. Red was squirming restlessly, his legs clamped tightly closed. His head was still turned aside from the strike to his face, but his expression was one of anguished bliss and confusion.

"Now... What's wrong, Teddybear?" Blue asked, kneeling over him. He was already soothing the place on Black's- Red's jaw where he had been struck, scratching up near the joint.

Red leaned into Blue's hand, nuzzling. He let out a shaky breath. "i feel... full? like something is settled in me, ready to come out..."

Black could almost see Blue's confusion. Blue gave Black's face a soft, affectionate kiss (Black wondered if he'd still feel the heat of that when he got his body back), then let go of his face to start inspecting his body. Gloved hands roved sweetly over Black's- Red's shoulders, down his ribcage, to his abdominal region. Red whimpered as Blue found the stomach Black had left behind, stroking over the shirt at first before lifting it up to expose the slightly bloated ecto, shimmering crimson discolored by the liquid held within. Blue stroked lovingly over the soft surface, a delighted, horrified expression on his face. "BLACK, WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Black smirked. "I JUST HAD A FEW CUPS OF EARL GREY BEFORE COMING OVER." He loved the taste of it, but it was human food, and always made such a mess in the end. Why not let Red deal with the aftermath?

"wut?"

Blue chuckled. "THAT IS VERY MEAN. I will have to even the playing field..." His hand slid lower, probing for the other little gift Black left for Red. Black knew the moment Blue found it, because Red flushed brighter than ever, moaning low, spreading his legs to give Blue all the access he wanted. Blue took the opportunity to strap his legs to the legs of the chair, securing them wide open.

Red squirmed, patella trembling with the force of his struggles. Blue, meanwhile, fished out a bullet vibe from the little toy chest by the wall and happily squeezed it down into Black's- Red's shorts.

"aw, c'mon, i'm already-" Red started to whine.

"Are you telling me you're already aroused from needing to pee?" Blue asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Red was his namesake, gritting his teeth and trembling. The neat, perfectly tailored clothing that Black had worn there was already rumpled, sweat drenched, and open to reveal the flare of his hips around the soft ecto shimmering with its own light. Red couldn't seem to find the words.

He wasn't denying it.

"That's alright, teddybear. You just go ahead and feel what you want to feel." Blue purred low, leaning in to kiss at his boyfriend's borrowed neck. Red went limp, sockets fluttering shut and panting like he couldn't get the heat out of him fast enough. Blue continued to ease his toy into those shorts, digging around until Red jerked like he was stung, trembling.

"blue, c'mon-!" Red whimpered.

"That isn't your safeword~" Blue gave the gentlest, most loving kisses, his intent wafting off him so strongly Black could feel it all the way in his own seat.

Then Blue switched the toy on. Red arched his back, swallowing back the most vulnerable sound Black had ever heard. "blue, i- i- _please-_ "

"It's so nice to see you enjoy yourself," Blue murmured. Black had to agree with him: Red was debauched, eyelights bright and quivering as hard as his legs, hips moving back and forth as if unsure if they wished to get away from the stimulation or press into it harder. He was starting to salivate, a trail of pink sliding down to his jaw, where the excess beaded to gleam in the light. Red was pointedly not looking at either one of them, failing to keep his breathing anything but utterly erratic.

The sight had Black's magic going haywire, sparking inside him and making his borrowed bones tingle.

" _please-_ " Red tried again. "i can't- i'm- i can't-!!"

Black couldn't look away.

Blue grinned wickedly, holding up the toy remote. Black swallowed back a bit of moisture, watching as Blue switched the setting to medium. Red cried out, really starting to thrash in his bindings.

"i can't- i can't- i can't-"

None of Red's desperate babbling was anywhere close to his safeword. Black knew it. Blue knew it. Red knew it, the little freak. Look at him, using Black's body for something so disgusting, and getting off to it!

Black's shorts (or, Red's, but Black was wearing them now) were starting to become damp. Black wasn't thinking too hard about what that meant.

Blue flipped the toy's setting to high, and that was it: Red seized up, an audible gush of wet heralding the absolute ruination of those shorts. Crimson mixed with something paler and less luminous. Humiliated tears slid down Red's borrowed face.

Black never knew his face could even look like that. He should have known he'd look amazing no matter what expression he wore.

Blue turned the toy off, pulling his hand away and taking off his now soiled gloves. He left the used things aside to be tended to later. Hearts in his eyelights, Blue cupped Black's- Red's face, wiping his tears away. "I love you," he said, soft, meaningful, proving it with the passion he took another kiss with. Red's trembling ceased, his soul soothed by his boyfriend.

Black wasn't jealous. Of course not. They were mates. He knew he and Blue just... didn't have that...

Blue lingered just long enough to dab a bit of sweat away from Black's- Red's sockets. Then he turned to Black (in Red's body), cracking his knuckles before pulling on a fresh, clean pair of gloves. "Your turn, Black~"

Black straightened his borrowed spine, taking a deep breath. "I AM READY FOR WHATEVER YOU THINK YOU CAN BRING AT ME."

Blue's usually sweet, innocent smile turned downright wicked. "I AM SO HAPPY YOU SAID SO!"

Blue went to the toybox and pulled out a blindfold and a knife. He showed them off to Black, grinning ever wider.

Black tried to hide it, but he was definitely trembling.

Blue lowered the items, his smile going from excited to something softer. "IF IT IS TOO MUCH, I CAN GET SOMETHING ELSE. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO-"

"PUT THE BLINDFOLD ON PROPERLY," Black cut him off.

Blue set the knife on the floor, ready for him, and approached. He stood behind Black, curling the blindfold snug and soft around his sockets, blacking out all sight. "You can call off at any time. Do not be afraid to safeword, okay?" Blue's voice brushed soft, his breath cascading down Black's borrowed neck. Even that light stimulation made Black's breath hitch and soul flutter.

Red had definitely done _something_ , to have such sensitivity in his bones.

"I KNOW THAT." Black knew he could get out whenever he wanted. Maybe he didn't want to yet. Did Blue even think about what he was saying?

The low chuckle said he did. "Okay."

At first, nothing happened. Black was left to sit there, blind and alert to every little shift of fabric, every shift of the air. The first brush of cold metal made him jump (he was a trained warrior, for fuck's sake! of course he would spring to action!), straining against the cuffs holding his wrists in place. The pressure of them sent tingles up his arms.

Blue shushed him, the gentle shushing one did to soothe as opposed to quiet.

The next brush of the blade's flat against his arm was easier to bear, though it still left a trail of tingling chills in its wake. Black was only just getting used to the texture of the metal when the first bite of the blade went into his borrowed arm. It was a shallow wound, not even touching his HP (of course it didn't -- Blue was a practiced dom and he had a 1HP boyfriend who liked it rough), the weapon there and gone, leaving behind a nick that throbbed with both chill and heat, radiating outward as if to encompass the whole of the humerus in the sensation. Black clenched his teeth, refusing to make a sound.

His lap was definitely damp.

The tip of the blade touched the inner surface of the opposite radius, gliding harmlessly along the tender surface. Black held that arm incredibly still, but his legs trembled. He didn't expect the slash to go across his femur, so close to the pelvis.

"That was a nice sound," Blue purred at his side, bringing the blade to lay flat along Black's exposed clavicle.

"WHAT SOUND?" Black asked, hating the breathlessness in his voice. He felt hot, like all the heat in the world was packed into his bones, into his dick, and the only relief from it was that tiny strip of metal on his shoulder. It was dizzying. The cuts stung, his sweat only making them sting more, but all he could focus on was the rush of it, the pleasure, the intent to please that Blue kept carving into his bones.

Blue turned the blade, digging it into Black's collarbone. This time Black felt the vibration of noise in his throat, felt it shudder out of him. "That one," Blue hummed, tilting Black's chin up with a knuckle to graze his gloved thumb across the front of his throat. "Make it again? Louder?"

Black stubbornly stayed quiet for as long as he could, which only lasted as long as it took Blue to bring the knife down to his ribs and drag it along the curvature.

Blue cupped Black's cheek, turning his head to one side. "You look so good like this," he all but breathed against his cheek. The knife twisted between Black's ribs, slicing the tender intercostal spaces.

"FUCK-" Black didn't mean to swear. He didn't mean to make any noise at all.

He felt the knife slide down his ribs, skip to his lumbar spine, and creep closer and closer to his pelvis. His dick ached, his body was on fire, and the freezing metal was driving him closer to madness. The blade dug into the wing of his ala, and Black threw his head back, bucking into it to drive it deeper.

"I love you," Blue whispered, pressing a kiss to Black's jaw.

Black felt his soul do a flip, stutter and spasm as he came. That was the last thing he knew before he blacked out.

* * *

Blue was very pleased with himself. After cleaning everything (and everyone) up and getting them all bundled into some soft robes, he finally got to snuggle between them. Red and Black were put back in their proper bodies, and Blue had some juice and energy bars ready for when they woke up. Black stirred first, shifting at Blue's side as he acclimated to the new environment.

"GOOD MORNING, BLACK," Blue whispered, still over the moon. "WOULD YOU LIKE SOMETHING TO EAT? DRINK?"

Black lay there, blushing that lovely icy cyan that Blue had always coveted. "MAY I ASK A PERSONAL QUESTION?"

"OF COURSE!"

"WOULD YOU LIKE TO... PERHAPS. GO ON A DATE? WITH ME, I MEAN."

Blue went very still as he did a bit of mental calculations. "...WE HAVE BEEN DATING FOR MONTHS???"

"WHAT?"

Blue cackled, leaning in to steal a mischievous kiss from his more reserved of datemates. "SILLY. DID YOU THINK RED AND I WOULD BE DOING THESE THINGS WITH A NOT-BOYFRIEND? IT TOOK ME YEARS OF FLIRTING TO GET YOU AND-"

"FLIRTING?!?!?"

Oh, Black was so cute when he was flustered. Blue adored him. He reached over to bring a juicebox into drinking range. "WE ARE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE NOW, AND I SUPPOSE THAT IS WHAT MATTERS. REST UP! AFTERCARE DOES NOT END WITH A BATH. WE HAVE A WHOLE DAY OF SNUGGLING TO DO!"

Black seemed pleased with this idea, in his not-as-stoic-as-he-would-like-to-think way, sinking back into the pillows (and Blue's arms) with his juicebox.

Red, on Blue's other side, slept on, snuggled close. That he hadn't woken to all the noise spoke volumes of his trust in them both, and Blue wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	3. Day 02: Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Human furniture | Sounding | Macro/micro  
>  **Kinks:** Biting, Overstimulation, Master/Slave Play, Temperature Play, Orgasm Denial  
>  **Pairing:** Lamia!Sans (OC) / Underlust!Sans  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity, snakes  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.5k

Lust lay on the couch, naked save for a tasteful pair of pink booty shorts, like any other day, sleeping away the heat. The heater was out, the rest of the house toe-nipping cold, but for Lust, all he could feel was fevered. It was just one of those days, it happened sometimes. He just wanted to sleep it off, hoping the whole thing would have faded by nightfall and then maybe he could walk across the room without passing out.

His plan was working as expected up until something small and cool slithered onto his chest. The touch of it was a balm. Lust curled his arms around it, trying to pull it closer, closer.

A warning hiss rang out, followed by a gentle nibble to Lust's fingers, tiny sharp teeth dancing over his bones harmlessly. Lust opened his eyes, not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't what was waiting for him.

"slinky?!"

Curled up in Lust's arms was the lamia they had taken in, a sweet, spunky darling who proved to be as affectionate as Lust could ever dream. However, Slinky was normally much larger than Lust, and now he was small enough to fit comfortably on his chest. Slinky wiggled, prompting Lust to loosen his grip on the darling, who coaxed Lust's hand to his face to nuzzle all over.

"baby, what happened?! you shrank!" Was he sick? Hurt?

Slinky shrugged, giving Lust a look that said, 'does it matter?' as surely as any words. He went back to nuzzling, shifting his body to show off his tail. The powder blue ecto, presenting as covered in soft translucent scales, was coiled cutely around something he had dragged up with him, something he wanted Lust to take.

Lust slid the hand not being held hostage by his snugly snake, smiling at the blissful expression on Slinky's face as he did so (Slinky loved his warmth, and Lust loved how happy it made him). When he felt the coils loop in his hands, he slid a finger in the loop to find the item. Slinky uncoiled from it, letting the slender stick fall neatly into Lust's hand. Lust recognized it instantly: it was one of his sounding rods, one of the many toys he kept secure in his toy chest.

Slinky, the devious little shit, grinned wide and knowing up at Lust. "plllllllllay?"

Lust shivered. "whatever you want, baby."

Slinky bit lightly on Lust's finger (gentle, careful, Slinky never broke skin- or periosteum- without permission, not unless he thought you were a threat). "mmmmmmasssssterrr."

Lust purred. "whatever you want, master," he corrected, thumbing at Slinky's chest, following the line of his sternum. If Slinky wanted that extra control, then he would get it. Maybe being small was making him feel vulnerable? Maybe he was just in a mood? Lust couldn't be sure. It didn't matter in the end, because his baby- his master- got whatever he wanted. "where and how do you want me?"

Slinky gestured to the floor. "sssssssssstanddd. ttttttreeeeee." He struggled with the second word, nuzzling Lust's hand a little rougher after getting it out. Poor darling and his speech impediment; Lust needed to get better at hands so they could communicate easier.

He thought he got the gist of it this time, though: Slinky wanted him to stand still like a tree for him? Was he going to _climb_ him? Slinky did love climbing trees on those rare days they went to the park...

Lust gently flexed his hand, a silent request to take it back. Slinky let go of it, slithering up to lay in the crook of Lust's neck. He nuzzled Lust's cervical vertebrae, nipping gently at his jaw. Lust's oversensitive bones sparked like live-wires at his touch, making it too easy to summon his dick. Letting out a shaky breath, Lust pushed down the waistband of his shorts, gripped himself, and inserted the sounding rod; gritting his teeth against a moan that was completely unwarranted for how little had actually been done to him.

Slinky slithered back down Lust's body, moving his hands away to coil around Lust's dick with as much of his body as he could fit. Lust clawed into the couch cushions under him, gasping at the sensation, at being squeezed so sweetly, and nuzzled, and bit, Slinky's full-body caresses of his length full of more love than Lust thought he would deserve in a lifetime.

"fuck-!!" Lust breathed, only to yelp as a much rougher squeeze cut him off.

"tttttttttreeeeeeeeee," Slinky reminded him.

Of course, trees didn't talk.

Lust swallowed back the intense desire to snark back, 'yes, master~' on the off chance he might get bitten for it (he'd only get louder if Slinky bit him with those wonderful teeth). Instead, Lust closed his sockets and tried very, very hard not to squirm.

Slinky had his way with Lust's helpless dick, snuggling it, soaking up the growing heat from the fevered surfaces, squeezing it with his talented little constrictor tail. Lust could barely think of anything other than how much he wanted to come like that, how good it felt. His legs felt like jelly by the time Slinky let up, leaving Lust a panting, trembling mess on the couch, unable to think.

Slinky clapped a few times, pulling Lust's attention back to him. He pointed at the floor and clapped again. Still shaky, Lust scooped Slinky up into his arms, sliding carefully off the couch. He settled Slinky in his place by the arm of the couch, and then backed a few steps away to stand in the middle of the livingroom.

Slinky raised his arms over his head, wiggling them a few times and giving Lust that pointed look he made when trying to get something done. Lust raised his own arms over his head, quirking a brow. Slinky, pleased, blepped, making a soft hiss before easing himself down to the floor. Lust kept himself still, gaze focused on the far wall.

Lust felt Slinky's soothing touch start at his right ankle, his soft tail curling around his hallux in passing. Slinky nuzzled against his medial malleolus, his tiny tongue flicking out to curl around the curvature of the protrusion. Lust focused on his breathing, trying not to think about those tender hands mapping out his body.

Slinky found his proverbial foothold, gripping onto Lust's tibia and shimmying up it like a pole. His tail curled between tibia and fibula, the cool, soft surface rubbing deliciously on the inner surfaces, making Lust's legs feel weak and his magic throb. Clever, talented lamia that he was, Slinky shimmied his way up and over Lust's patella, up his femur, and settled to rest on the crest of his pelvis.

Lust's entire right leg was alight with pleasurable little tingles, curling in a spiral to follow the path of Slinky's tail.

Slinky hissed again, Lust's only warning before he started to stroke Lust's dick, slow and teasing. Lust felt the whimper tremble in the back of what functioned as his throat, digging his heels in. His whole body trembled, his magic pulsing hot inside him, the pressure of it maddening. Lust's fingers ached, twitching over his head, wanting to rip the rod out and come. He refused, keeping his body as rigid as his weakness would allow.

Slinky gave one last nuzzle before moving on, squirming his way around the column of Lust's lumbar vertebrae. Lust nearly collapsed when he felt Slinky's teeth there, his delicate nibbles and gentle kisses; his intent, so full of appreciation, possession, want, _love_. Damn him.

See how he liked it when his shedding week came. Lust would return this tenfold. Just wait.

Slinky didn't linger there long, instead climbing up Lust's spine, grinding his tail against his sensitive spine up until he hit Lust's ribcage. There, he began to sniff with the delicate tips of his forked tongue, lapping up the condensed moisture that had gathered there. That tongue found a bead of sweat in an intercostal space, the soft, flexible construct brushing over the tender, untouched surface over, and over, and over, until it had lapped up every little drop.

Lust felt the orgasm rip through him, only to be aborted at his dick, repelled by the sounding rod, denying him release. His chest rattled with his voice, a moan, a whimper, a sob he couldn't quite swallow down completely.

Slinky bit lightly on one of his ribs, and Lust's knees gave out entirely. He fell to the floor, shaking.

He loved this absolute bastard of a monster so much. Fuck.

"cccccccccouchhhhhhhhh," Slinky ordered, sounding far too satisfied.

Lust crawled back onto the couch, curling up. He was dizzy, weak knee'd, and could feel the heart shapes pounding in the back of his skull.

"nnnnappp," Slinky trilled, squirming in his ribs, spreading himself out so he was sprawled on as much of Lust's warmth as he could manage, soaking it up.

So, Lust was a tent now? That was fine. He hugged one of the couch cushions, feeling his hips buck at empty air. He'd stay there, resting with his precious, lovely, cruel master, and sleep the day away.

And when nightfall came, maybe his good behavior would warrant a reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slinky is a demanding boi. <3


	4. Day 03: Medicinal Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** ~~Fisting~~ | Medicalplay | ~~Orgasm denial~~  
>  **Kinks:** Bondage, Masks, Scent, Sounding, Toys, Fellatio, Anal  
>  **Pairing:** Falsi (Sans!OC) / Dancetale!Sans / Killer (Sans!OC)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Contains Plague Doctor  
>  **Length in Words:** ~3.2k
> 
> This is Part 2 of 'The Fuckening'. Read [Part 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753746/chapters/65270494), written by my good friend Biryu13, if you have not yet done so~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned above, this is actually the sequel to [a piece written by Biryu13.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753746/chapters/65270494)
> 
> But more than that, this is actually a transcription of a roleplay that Moth (Biryu) and I did together! So really, go show her some love too for helping me out! (and also making our boi Falsi whom I love very much).

Back then, Hiphop sure didn't think he'd ever be where he was now.

Boy, was Past-Hiphop a dumbass.

Hiphop snuggled up close to Falsi in their shared bed, tucked away in the dungeons of Nightmare's Castle. There were plenty of bigger, conventionally 'nicer' rooms up top, but Falsi had gotten that sparkle in his good eyelight, giggling in that excited way he did when the genuine glee in him couldn't be contained, and Hiphop couldn't voice a reason to tell him no. If he were honest, Hiphop had grown rather fond of the cozy, quiet safety of their little suite, just like he had grown fonder of his spot in his adorably eccentric boyfriend's arms.

Sighing happily, Hiphop snuggled in more, clinging to Falsi's softer night clothes (soft, breathable cotton, all the better to smell him in), pleased with what served as a quiet morning. Falsi stirred marginally against him, around him, still clinging to those last few threads of sleep. Hiphop smirked, reaching up to wipe a bit of something moist from Falsi's cheek, his hand lingering tenderly near the tip of the crack that cut through Falsi's right eye. He thumbed at that too, the distinctive fracture pattern something that sparked both fathomless affection and blinding fury.

If Hiphop ever figured out whoever, or whatever, had hurt his boyfriend like that, he was going to kick them in the goddamn teeth.

Falsi's eye sockets cracked open, dull and vivid eyelights both sparking alight in them, the edges hazy with sleep. Hiphop thought for sure Falsi would drift right back off, as he usually did when he was pet softly and there was no coffee to call him away. The cobalt of his good eyelight, however, snapped to focus on something behind Hiphop, reminding him that they weren't alone.

"We need the table ready," Falsi said softly, ever calm, unhurried: What he saw was routine, and not something that should cause them any alarm. He took Hiphop's wrist in his own hand, pulling it down enough to kiss Hiphop's carpals.

Hiphop was not awake enough to have any defense against that. He felt the heat of it shoot up his arm and burn into his face, his soul fluttering like an angry butterfly. Smug in his victory (the sexy bastard), Falsi gave Hiphop one last nuzzle before easing himself out of bed.

Hiphop rolled over to see what Falsi had seen, hoping it would distract from his gooey insides singing sappy fluffy songs like the vocalist of a screamo band.

Sitting right behind him, on the edge of the bed, was Killer, a cat on his lap. He stroked along the lazy thing's spine, slow, absent, his gaze unfocused and directed somewhere towards the far wall. His soul, a strange thing that seemed permanently tethered to the outside of his chest (a state that Hiphop could only begin to empathize with, the very thought of having his soul out and on display in some of the situations he knew Killer's had been in viscerally alarming), was trembling, the edges shifting in shape, as if uncertain of its own substance: It didn't even look like a soul at the moment, shaped like a target and vivid red, only the faintest of while scribbles holding on.

Killer had his own room on the ground floor, only coming to sleep with them at irregular intervals. Hiphop didn't remember him wandering down last night, so he must have come after they had passed out.

By the looks of it, maybe after having one of those awful nightmares.

"mask," Hiphop mumbled, still not firing on all cylinders himself. If anything was going to help with damage control, it was something to make Killer feel safe. However, Hiphop did not have a deathwish: when Killer started looking that lost, he tended to get... stabby. And Hiphop wasn't well equipped to handle Stabby. That was Falsi's job. Hiphop slid off the other end of the bed, padding across the room without bothering to find pants to prep the 'experiment table': a medical table which had been custom fitted with a number of restraints and devices.

Hiphop got the comfortable wrist cuffs prepped, wiping the table down and fluffing the good pillow. When he was sure he was done, he patted the pillow, yawning into his other hand as he turned to watch the other two.

Killer's soul continued to spasm as Falsi approached with a mask in his hand: it looked to be a new, custom design (Falsi kept testing new types out, trying to see what would be best for Killer, what he liked, what worked), appearing more like a gas mask, with filters on the sides and made of fine leather. Knowing Falsi, it was probably scented inside, too.

Killer went still, empty sockets fixing themselves on Falsi. A little bit of black slime began to ooze from them, leaving dark tear-tracks down his face. His fingers twitched, his grin quirked up ever so slightly, but his hands remained gentle on the cat. The little furball was probably the only thing holding him together by this point, likely having attached itself to him as soon as he started deteriorating. Hiphop loved those little bastards; they smelled his episodes faster than anything else, and they earned their dinner keeping them contained.

Falsi gently slid the mask over Killer's face, steady hands securing it. Some of the tension in Killer's shoulders eased, but his soul and fingers trembled yet.

"We've got you, beautiful..." Falsi murmured, carefully moving the cat from Killer's lap. He gave it a few good rubs, grateful as always for their assistance. He then scooped up Killer carefully. Killer remained inert in his arms, twitchy fingers picking at his clothes as Falsi brought him over to the table.

Killer lay back, unresistant, when Falsi lay him down. Falsi took those twitching fingers in his own, guiding them slowly up and back to lay over Killer's head. Hiphop did his part, securing the cuffs around Killer's wrists. With his arms bound, that was half the danger out of the way.

Killer took a deep breath, the pulses of his ribcage slowing. His soul stabilized, the chaotic tremblings easing. The red target gleamed in the light. His fingers continued to twitch, but there was no power behind it.

Hiphop relaxed, walking down to the other side of the table. He rubbed idly at Killer's legs as he went, hoping it would soothe him. "so... what's the next step today?"

"Well, stage two of his treatments is ready, if you want to go ahead and do that while we bring him down..." Falsi hummed, already starting to strip Killer of his kitty pajamas (they were his favorite), sliding the pants down for Hiphop to pull off before securing the cuffs on his ankles. "Stage one is already helping him _leagues_ faster than anticipated." Next, Falsi carefully unbuttoned Killer's shirt, leaving it open for ease of access to his ribs. "But otherwise, the pump. Perhaps some other tests? I need to draw a bit of marrow anyway." 

The doctor pulled back, heading for the dresser on the other side of the room (likely to get redressed in something more suitable for his studies). Hiphop caught him by the arm, pulling him down for a kiss. Killer was important, but Hiphop only played lab assistant if he was paid. "pump. ok. i can do that. but you gotta take the marrow."

Hiphop wasn't touching those other tools with a ten foot pole.

"I'll handle the needles, songbird," Falsi hummed, soft.

Damn him and his cute pet names and sexy voice. Damn him to hell.

Leaving Falsi to his whatever-he-was-doing, Hiphop slunk back to Killer, getting his own little soul flutters back under control and hoping nobody noticed the heat in his face. The pump was attached to the table, waiting in a little holster for its next use. Killer was beginning to tug at his bindings, squirming. Hiphop circled the table, taking pump in hand and grinning at the joke he hadn't yet told. "hey killer," he said, knowing he'd need a little cooperation to actually use the damn thing. "sucky sucky dick pump."

Killer laughed, a barked, startled thing that devolved into hopeless giggling, which only made the dick he summoned jiggle with the shaking of his body. Falsi, on the other side of the room, paused in his efforts to dress himself, unfastened belts held frozen in each hand as he looked back at Hiphop with a dry, deadpan expression.

Hiphop, pleased with each reaction, took Killer's member in hand and inserted the tube of the pump. Killer's laughter cut off into an equally startled, broken mewl, his toes curling as his body strained against the cuffs. His cherry red magic throbbed in Hiphop's hands, warm despite the LV he knew he had. When the tube was all the way in, Hiphop stroked the soft appendage, enjoying the warmth and the gasps and the quivers his efforts brought him.

Hiphop's eyes were drawn up again when he heard Falsi's sigh: It was muffled, reverberating in that way that sent a shiver down his spine. Sure enough, when he looked, Falsi had put his plague doctor mask on, a thing of bleached leather with a curved beak and brass frames for the eyes. He stood there, adjusting to the entirety of himself (sexy in leather and black with only the most tantalizing highlights of color, the asshole, he knew what he was doing), before surging into a bustle of activity. Before Hiphop knew what he was seeing, Falsi had the bullet vibes out and strategically placed on the inside of Killer's ribs and on his sternum just under his soul.

Knowing Falsi would want elbow room to work, Hiphop moved to the head of the table, threading the fingers of one hand through to hold one of Killer's. He squeezed, hoping the reassurance bled through to wherever he was in his head. As much as Hiphop didn't like the idea of Killer when he was 'stabby', he knew Killer hated it even more. "doing great," he assured him.

The vibes were switched on, setting low and easy to start. Killer shivered, his thumb stroking up and down Hiphop's phalanx. Hiphop was pointedly not looking for it, but he knew when Falsi used the first needle based on Killer's flinch. Killer wouldn't be feeling any other pain the rest of the session (Falsi had the good drugs and he was damn liberal with them), which meant Hiphop just had to make sure he stayed stable and didn't call a safeword. He couldn't say he disliked this part; the mask might obscure his expression, but it didn't do as much as one might have thought to muffle the noises Killer made. Hiphop began to stroke the top of Killer's skull, listening to his breathless panting.

Killer shivered at the feel of the vibes, squirming at even the lowest setting. He did his damnedest to hold still most of the time, eager to please in any way he could (the nerd).

"You're always such a good subject, beautiful..." Falsi agreed when he pulled himself out of his mental zone. "Now, this might feel a little scary, but we're right here for you..."

Hiphop finally looked up to see what Falsi was doing. The doctor had an IV in hand, inspecting Killer's soul as it pulsed crimson between them. There was no indication of his expression through the mask he wore, but Falsi's hands were steady and sure as he carefully, reverently, cradled the tender construct and inserted the needle. As soon as the soft surface was breached, the piping guided the solution from the nearby IV bag into it, colors that had meaning that Hiphop didn't grasp filling the space in Killer that needed filled. Falsi's hand lingered, thumb caressing the side lovingly as it shifted form, going back to that inverted heart shape it was meant to hold and be held in.

Hiphop watched with no small amount of grudging jealousy and admiration: he wanted held like that, he wanted to hold them like that too.

With a sigh, Falsi let go, leaving Killer's soul in its spot to rest and flutter and fill. "Go ahead and turn the pump on~" he reminded Hiphop. "He's been waiting long enough~"

Smiling, Hiphop did as he was bid, excited for the fun part to begin. Killer immediately let out a long, low moan, back arching off the table. Hiphop clung to his hand, shivering at the sound, the scent, the sight of him fucked up in the only way his datemate should ever be fucked up.

He loved this unstable little bastard.

Falsi made the softest little titter, an involuntary noise Hiphop was sure he didn't even notice himself making. He ran his fingertips up the arch of Killer's spine, a gesture too intimate, too genuine in its tenderness, to be only for examination. Hiphop saw the glint of steel and averted his eyes, knowing Falsi needed his samples if he was to get his work done. He squeezed Killer's hand again, listening for any distress. All he heard were desperate whimpers that had nothing to do with pain.

Hiphop couldn't blame him: even with his inexplicable phobia, he never regretted laying on that table himself, either. Falsi's hands were the safest place to be, more often than not.

"One more notch on the vibes, please, songbird..." Falsi's voice brought Hiphop out of his own thoughts. "And use _your_ pattern; really draw that out."

That sparked a flustered heat that overtook every joint in Hiphop's body. _Fuck._ He could see the light of his own blush reflected in the shine of the table. The concept of his soul song was in itself inherently erotic, but using it's transcription to get his datemate off? Hiphop could feel slick build up and slide down his leg at the very thought of it. His hand shook as he moved to do just that, flipping through the settings until he found the one Falsi had left for him.

That fucker. That clever little bastard. The kinky slut. He loved him.

Killer gasped at the change. A watery red substance slid out from under his mask to drip onto the pillow. His squirming only intensified. Hiphop swallowed back moisture that threatened to overflow down his chin, his own legs trembling at the sight of Killer going crazy over _his song_. " _fuck-!!_ "

"Hold off a little longer, the patient hasn't finished his treatment~" Falsi shifted his attention from the strokes on Killer's spine to petting Killer's skull, sliding up to the head of the table to curl his fingertips over Killer's bones lovingly. "Almost done, you're doing so well, you're so well behaved for us, so perfect. Just a little more, beautiful, then Hiphop can have you."

Hiphop's hand must have slipped, since the vibration got turned up one notch more.

The wretched noise Killer made had Hiphop drooling. When he looked up at the container the pump was attached to, he saw it was nearly full: Killer must have been coming nonstop since the beginning, drained dry as he was pet and held and whispered to.

Hiphop couldn't take it anymore. He hid in Falsi's chest, shivering because _fuck, he was so turned on._ He didn't let go of Killer's hand; that was his too. They were both his. _Fuck._

"Take him, songbird." Falsi's voice ghosted over Hiphop, almost like he could feel his breath despite the mask. "Let us replace those bad thoughts with our love, shall we~?" He turned the pump off, and the vibes were set back down to the first notch, still humming with Hiphop's song.

Hiphop stood on his tiptoes, leaning up to kiss at Falsi's neck (the only place left exposed for him to exploit, because Falsi cheated), then moved to remove the pump from Killer. Killer came again as it was pulled out, flecks of his magic hitting Hiphop in the face. Hiphop licked the cum off his teeth, stroking the still throbbing shaft in his hand.

It was his turn to take samples. Taking a deep breath, Hiphop lowered himself down, swallowing Killer's length until he could kiss his pelvis. He ground his tongue up into the fevered, oversensitive surface, moaning softly as the bitter taste of Killer filled his senses. He let one hand creep down to stroke at his bare pubis, feeling his magic gather until he had a dick of his own to stroke.

"You just had to have a taste, didn't you~?" Falsi giggled, then carefully took the IV drip, now nearly empty, out of Killer's soul. He paused, inspecting the end a moment, before he took his own mask off... and then licked up the surface of the needle, slowly, savoring the taste.

Hiphop may have bitten down a bit at seeing it. Killer came in his mouth, crying out what could have been either their names or swears in their general direction. Hiphop swallowed, yet a little red escaped to drip down his jaw. The haze of it, scent and color and sound, had him dizzy, rubbing himself off faster.

He wanted to fuck him. He yanked his hands off himself to start fingering Killer's ass, wanting him, wanting more. 

Killer came again very quickly, giving Hiphop another taste, another song to seduce him with his moaning.

Gentle, coaxing hands pulled Hiphop off before he could wring another from him. Falsi took hold of Hiphop's member, stroking slow and spreading the pre over every surface. Hiphop leaned back into him, letting him guide them both closer to Killer with his body until the tip of Hiphop's dick aligned with Killer's ass.

"Don't keep him waiting, greedy boy."

Falsi wasn't allowed to have a voice like that. It was against the rules. 

Falsi kissed and nuzzled into Hiphop's neck, guiding Hiphop inside their shared boyfriend, slow and careful. Hiphop couldn't hear anything else except his own voice, his own breathing, Killer's muffled whimpers, and Falsi's soft praise as he started to thrust.

At some point, Killer must have been let out of his cuffs, because he was around Hiphop, pinning him between himself and Falsi. It made it hard to move, but Hiphop got to nuzzle into Killer's soft, pulsing soul. He could feel the gratitude, the affection, the relief in him. He could also feel Killer's magic squeezing him tight as he rode him.

Killer in the front, riding him hard; Falsi behind, holding them both close and nuzzling them, kissing them both in turn. Hiphop was beyond caring, he just never wanted it to stop.

"I love you both so much..."

Hearing those words in Falsi's voice was enough to tip Hiphop over the edge. Based on the surge of intent (and slime) from Killer, he must have been in the same boat. Hiphop twisted to reach up and yank Falsi down for a kiss, for once glad his mask had vanished at some point. Falsi meeped, a soft, surprised noise that went right to Hiphop's soul and lingered there to fester in warmth. Killer, unwilling to be left out, pulled Hiphop aside just enough to get a few kisses of his own now that his mask was missing too. Hiphop took his shot to bite Killer's neck in revenge.

Hiphop didn't mind being an assistant. The benefits were amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this........ may or may not be an alpha test for Dr33mtal3 canon. huhuhu.


	5. Day 04: Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Incest | Breathplay | ~~Leather/Latex~~  
>  **Kinks:** Bondage; Heavy Petting; Tentacles; Forced Orgasm  
>  **Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dreammare (Dream/Nightmare)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Yandere; Noncon; implied threats of dismemberment  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.1k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREEPY DARK ANGST AHEAD  
> please do take care of paying attention to the warnings!

Nightmare flinched at the sound of the door opening behind him. It was all he could do not to scream, not to thrash so hard in his bindings that he broke his wrists and ankles (again). His wrists were bound over his head to the headboard, his ankles to each corner of the bed so he was spread eagle, and his wings were held closed by cinched belts. To make matters worse, there were cold metal ringlets attached to his ribs, forcing his tendrils to remain trapped in his ribcage and throat, helpless, useless. If escape were possible, he would have been gone by now.

The door creaked shut. The radiant warmth and soothing contentment now licking at Nightmare's back like whips were a pyrrhic comfort: he knew it was synthetic, knew it was just another curse, but his breathing slowed and his tense body went slack all the same, leaving him facedown in the soft cushions he had been left in.

" _I am home, my darling Night,_ ," purred the soft, musical voice of Dream (the traitor, the oathbreaker). The bed dipped on one side, and a deceptively gentle hand brushed its knuckles over his cheek. The touch burned with contagious comfort, forced comfort, shoving Nightmare's better instincts to the distant corners of his mind, his free will in a gilded cage of serenity. Nightmare couldn't see it through the blindfold, but he could picture Dream's smug, victorious smirk in his mind's eye.

Nightmare wanted to say a lot of things. He knew better than to say any of them. Instead, he put his efforts to better use trying to hold on to his sense of self, to filter out and resist Dream's overwhelming demand for his happiness.

" _Still you fight me, darling brother?_ " Dream murmured. " _That is one of the many things I love about you, your tenacity in the face of adversity. _" Slick tendrils began to slide over Nightmare's body, teasing his ribs and pumping his spine. Nightmare tried bucking them off, knowing it was an effort in futility. He shuddered as Dream's fingertips grazed adoringly over his cheek, down his jaw to his teeth, only to grip his chin firmly. Dream's voice was closer, more hushed, more _intimate_ , as he spoke. " _But you need not fight anymore, dearest. I am here. I have you. I will never let you go again._ " The kiss he gave might have been called loving if it were not tainted with unrestrained possession.__

__Meanwhile, Dream's tentacles wove themselves into every tender place he could manage: entwining with and massaging his ribs; coiling around his lumber, stroking slow and leisurely, dragging along his delicate spines; weaving through his sacral and obturator foramen, slicking up his pelvis inside and out. Every touch was accompanied by a static buzz of pure _pleasure_ , Dream's potent intent injecting physical gratification and want directly into Nightmare's bones._ _

__A particularly nasty pulse squeezed a humiliating noise out of Nightmare, one that Dream drank up with a chuckle of his own. Encouraged, Dream increased the power behind his advances, searing and branding Nightmare's body with pleasure, with want, until Nightmare could bear no more._ _

__Dream pulled out of the kiss, wiping salivation from Nightmare's face with his thumb. " _See? Does it not feel better to leave it to me?_ " His hand crept down, scratching at Nightmare's jaw on its way to his neck, teasing the joints with butterfly caresses. " _Will you not promise me? Promise to stay with me forever?_ "_ _

__Sweat slicked down his body to soak the bedding, leaving Nightmare feeling damp and wrung out. That by itself was almost a comfort, reminding him of the protective ooze he once had. Damn, if he didn't miss it, his bare bones feeling particularly vulnerable and exposed. He grit his teeth. " _I-_ " His voice cracked. He could not push the authority, the power, into it that he once could, another thing Dream had taken from him whose aspect was in taking. Hearing his own voice echo in his skull made him even more aware of how fragile he was, how fragile he had been made to be. " _I promise I will never stop trying to leave you._ "_ _

__The tendrils on Nightmare's body went abruptly still. " _Oh, Nightmare..._ " Dream half purred, half hissed. " **Now look what you have done.** "_ _

__Dream's hand shifted its grip, encircling Nightmare's cervical vertebrae and squeezing tight. His touch was as fire, as lightning, as full and uncompromising as the laws of the universe. Even knowing that he did not use his neck for the purpose, having his system suddenly clogged with so much emotion made Nightmare feel as if he could not breathe, a primal anxiety awakening in him to try, to claw for air (or at least release)._ _

__" _Look what your impulsiveness has done, brother. Now we have to get rid of that foolish promise..._ " Dream's other hand stroked tenderly, perversely reverent, over Nightmare's wing. If Nightmare had never known panic before, he did then, reinvigorating his attempts at escape with every ounce of strength he had left. His wings flinched away from any point of contact, the memory of- the memory making even the lightest of gestures spark in phantom agony. Still, Dream's influence did not leave him, pumping him full of arousal, of pleasure, of calm that might have been the only thing keeping his rational mind still running._ _

__" _But that is another thing I love about you, darling Nightmare. It will be alright._ " The tendrils in Nightmare's pelvis retreated, letting Nightmare's magic shape his shamefully slick pussy against his will. One slick tendril teased at his clit, while another began to ease inside, slow, achingly slow, making sure every bit of friction was etched into his being, taking Dream's demand that he enjoy his touch with it into his soul. Nightmare's head began feeling lighter and lighter, more full of cotton, of the compulsion to comply, to acquiesce, to enjoy._ _

__Dream's voice sounded far away, despite feeling the soft batter of his breath against Nightmare's skull. " _Do not worry, dearest. This time, you need not suffer. I will have the good doctor remove them while you sleep._ "_ _

__Nightmare's world was heat, and pleasure, and fear, a miasma that choked him from the inside._ _

__" _You need never suffer again, for I love you, and will never let you go~_ " Dream purred, giving Nightmare the lightest of kisses before releasing his neck. Nightmare seized up once more, stronger, as if everything had compounded into a single lancing strike of orgasmic fury aimed straight at his soul._ _

__The last thing he knew were Dream's hands tenderly preening his wings, shushing him quietly to sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a direct sequel to this [on Day 20](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66213178). =3
> 
> a sidestory sequel is in [Day 14](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65914000)


	6. Day 05: Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Double penetration in two holes | Boot worship | ~~Lactation~~  
>  **Kinks:** Tentacles; Gagging; Sounding; Forced Orgasms; Overstimulation; Orgasm Denial  
>  **Pairing:** Underswap!Papyrus/Dr33mtal3!Nightmare & Dr33mtal3!Nightmare/Cross  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Implied Past Abuse  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is in two parts

Nightmare crossed his legs where he sat on his throne, keeping his expression cold and guarded. Stretch was slumped at his side, sitting on the arm of his throne and pretending to sleep (completely ruining his menacing image, a crime that would once have been punishable by death). Before him, kneeling on the floor with his gaze down, was Cross.

" **You remember your place, at least,** " Nightmare admitted, pleased.

Stretch coughed, loud and staccato. His elbow happened to nudge at Nightmare's shoulder, once, then twice. Nightmare glared up at his- his boyfriend? What a trite word for a position so much more meaningful, more auspicious, more honorable. Still, Nightmare would do well to take his advisor's words to heart, even if it seemed counter intuitive.

Deep breath. In, then out. Nightmare had nothing to fear. It was only pain.

It was only-

Stretch's hand settled on his shoulder, grounding, a comfort. 

Night sighed. " **However, perhaps it is time that your place... changed...** " Nightmare said carefully. Cross did not move (of course not, he would never dare: even being one of the newer of his minions, Cross had taken his lessons the most to heart), but Nightmare could feel his confusion, his curiosity. " **It has been brought to my attention that my leadership may have been... unnecessarily strict. My reasons notwithstanding, a change is certainly in order for what I desire for the future...** "

Nightmare clicked his teeth, tasting the words he was about to say, feeling them on his tongue. " **I have... been the catalyst for crimes against you which are unforgivable. For this, for this I am remorseful.** "

The room was silent, Cross remaining unmoving where he knelt. 

Nightmare felt like an utter fool. He knew it was useless. He should have never made himself so vulnerable. " **That is all. Be gone.** He dismissed.

Cross, hearing Nightmare's undisguised dissatisfaction, scrambled to escape, his fear wafting from him like something physical.

"hold on," Stretch huffed, cracking an eye open. "lets try that again.... but maybe without the whole scary power imbalance thing."

" **Silence,** " Nightmare hissed at him. He had no desire to deal with Cross' hatred or fear any longer. This experiment was a failure. As he expected, Kink had been an outlier, one not meant to be counted.

"nah." Stretch slid to his feet, stretching. "cross, how about we do this again? but maybe you look at him?"

Cross froze. He turned, looking pointedly at Stretch instead of Nightmare. He didn't say a word.

Stretch sighed, pulling out a lollipop to suck on absently ( _hateful things, Nightmare was better than some cheap artificially flavored candies, he'd show them, he'd show them he was the only- wait, stop, focus-_ ). "look, he isn't so great with the emotional honesty thing-"

" **I. can. not. lie.** " Nightmare hissed, his tendrils snapping angrily around Stretch. Annoyingly (and yet very very satisfyingly so), Stretch did not flinch, not even gracing Nightmare with a wayward glance.

"-so i'll translate. he's sorry he made your life hell, and wants to start making it up to you."

Cross dared to glance in Nightmare's direction, then hurriedly looked away, only to peak again. Nightmare stayed in his seat, letting his tendrils retract back to his side, settling around him in a display of elegance. Cross steeled his nerve, finally speaking. "is that true, boss?"

Nightmare made a point of inspecting the back of his phalanges, as he had seen bored humans do in those movies with such excellent hats. " **...And if it is?** " He could not afford to be seen as weak. Not now. Not yet.

"i'd need proof."

Stretch hummed. "what kind of proof?"

"well..." Cross considered. "i... i dunno. what made _you_ trust him?" He leveled Stretch with a suspicious glare. "go on, this outta be good."

Suddenly full of mischief, Stretch grinned. "you, heh, you really wanna know?"

"yeah."

"ya sure?"

"yes!"

"positive~?"

"yes already!"

Stretch crunched down on his sucker, swallowing the little shards of candy and tucking the bare stick back into his hoodie pouch. "'kay." Drenched in a playful glee, he picked up one of Nightmare's tendrils, stroking it lovingly with his hands.

Nightmare gripped the arms of his throne tightly, bracing himself for what was about to happen, what he was too late to stop (what he wasn't sure he wanted to stop). He picked a point on the far wall to stare at, avoiding Cross' confused eyelights. As expected, Stretch immediately set to work stroking away Nightmare's sap, the slime falling away more and more with every tender stroke of his fingers. Soon he had the tip of Nightmare's tendril completely bare, the vulnerable appendage shimmering in nervous blues. Stretch tisked quietly at the sight, thumbing at the false flesh until it shifted hue, darkening into a flushed purple that then flushed lighter in pinks. Nightmare kept his joints locked in place, but his boneless tendrils squirmed for him, betraying his fluster for anyone who knew how to read such language.

Then Stretch brought that armourless root tip to his teeth, kissing it, then licking it, every motion a searing brand of love and devotion so genuine and intense that Nightmare blacked out, sagging in his seat.

At the very least, the shock that Cross hit him with was sobering enough to bring him back.

"what?!"

Stretch wrapped the tendril around his neck, still fidgeting with the bare tip he had tangled in his fingers. "was that not clear? well..." He gave Nightmare a glance, hints of pity and empathic sorrow feeding him. "it's usually more clear than this, he's never this guarded with me... hmmm..."

And the mischief was back.

Stretch sat down on the floor in front of Nightmare's throne. "it's that kinda problem huh? i didn't even realize..." He put his back to Nightmare, hooking Nightmare's legs over his shoulder. Stretch released Nightmare's tentacle, only to put both hands on his ankles, stroking up and down the malleable material of Nightmare's boots. Nightmare could feel the pressure, the burning intent, through the mimicry of leather.

He could feel the proximity of Stretch's affections: the reverence, the loyalty, the love.

Nightmare let out a shuddered breath, sending his tendrils to coil around Stretch, to hold him close. He felt Stretch's amusement, the warmth of it, along with all of the other positive feelings he had for Nightmare, starting to give him a stomach ache. He continued to look at the far wall, avoiding Cross and his more palatable cocktail of apprehension.

"what are you doing?!" Cross asked, voice a few clicks higher in pitch than usual.

"what i usually do?" Stretch continued his attention, taking Nightmare's foot in hand and gently rolling his ankle for him. "he's all tense and nervous, but some therapeutic petting does the trick."

" **Do not speak of me like some wild beast in need of taming,** " Nightmare growled.

"i would never," Stretch assured, the words heavy with his well meaning lie. Nightmare swiftly smacked the back of his head with his fingertips, careful to control his intent so as not to cause damage. Stretch laughed, nuzzling his leg.

Nightmare could feel the heat blooming in his face. He hoped his sap concealed the glow.

"i don't understand," Cross finally said. "he just- he just lets you do whatever you want, with hardly any consequences?!" The anger was delicious.

"that's not it at all." Stretch started to thumb at the space between Nightmare's tibia and fibula, gentle caresses that made focus difficult. "i show him i care in a way he understands, is all. he likes being pet. and it's pretty fun for me too."

"doesn't it hurt?"

"doesn't what hurt?"

Those hands were still aimlessly stroking at Nightmare's leg, warmth and comfort. Months of such attention's conditioning were taking their toll, lulling Nightmare into a state of mind where he had nothing to think of except the hands that held him. He could barely keep his sockets open, catching himself literally nodding off with a jolt he prayed Cross did not notice.

"the slime?!"

"oh, this?" Those hands paused, giving Nightmare a moment to gather himself again. "it's just maple syrup most of the time? i know he makes it rubbery and spicy and gross when he gets mad, but it's sweet right now. i don't mind getting a little sticky."

"sweet?"

"uh huh. wanna taste?"

"...you first," Cross answered, full of delicious suspicion.

Stretch, unperturbed, immediately turned his face into Nightmare's inner femur and took a long, slow lick. The rawness of his emotions, his intentions, his trust and delight at the taste of him, ripped what little composure Nightmare had to shreds. He tensed, gasping, tightening his grip on his seat and hoping Cross-

Fuck. Cross definitely noticed, if the shock and mild arousal were any indication. Nightmare couldn't blame him: Stretch was damn attractive.

"see?" Stretch sounded as smug as he felt. "he's a big candy ball, when he isn't being prickly."

Cross edged closer. Nightmare made certain to hold still. He was supposed to be trying to make amends, after all, and frightening the mortal would be the opposite of that. Cross knelt down, trembling fingers reaching out for Nightmare's boot. His anxiety, his fear, his doubt, it was all delicious, helping to quell the nauseating love that Nightmare couldn't stop himself from partaking of. Cross's hand finally made contact, only to immediately pull back, taking a glob of Nightmare's ooze with it.

More hesitation, surprise (Nightmare could not remember the last time he and Cross had touched without pain involved), then Cross licked at his soiled fingers. "...syrup?!"

"sweet, right?"

Cross looked at Nightmare, the weight of his heterochromatic gaze heavy. Nightmare continued to pretend he was alone with Stretch. "why?"

"why what?" Stretch asked.

"why this sudden change? why me? why this?!"

Nightmare didn't think he had an answer that would satisfy.

"does it matter?"

"yes it fucking matters!" Cross snapped. "what if it's a trick?! how can i ever trust anything he does?!"

Stretch shrugged. "you don't gotta. but he's gonna be here if you wanna."

Cross rubbed the syrup between his fingers, backing up a few steps before indulging in a strategic retreat.

* * *

A month later and Nightmare couldn't believe the difference. Not in himself, not in Cross.

"oh, fuck-!!" Cross rasped, fingers twitching uselessly where they were bound over his head by Nightmare's tendrils. He hung there, no longer thrashing in panicked desperation as he once would have. "fuck, boss-!!"

There was something oddly satisfying about hearing the moniker spoken in such a raw, pleading cadance. Nightmare might have even commented on it if his mouth wasn't so full of Cross' dick. Ah, well...

"boss, _please-_ " Cross whimpered, his cock throbbing helplessly in Nightmare's teeth. Nightmare hummed, acknowledging his cries, but he had no intention of caring unless he heard the safeword. Besides, he had nothing to cry about: Nightmare had tendrils both coiled around Cross' dick, as well as deep inside it, squirming to press and stimulate his magic from both inside and out. On top of that, a much thicker vine was pounding into Cross' ass, setting a steady rhythm of pleasure. The man had no room to complain about Nightmare's performance when he had been on the brink of orgasm since the beginning.

How long had it been now?

It did not seem long to Nightmare, only a few hours, probably. Cross could handle a little more while they waited.

"boss- boss- _bo-!!_ " Cross begged, the best sound he'd ever made in Nightmare's presence. Nightmare was almost sorry to hear it muffled, but the idea of stuffing that mouth with a tendril or two was too good to pass up. He made sure his tendrils had very specific, special compositions: all the mixings of a nice taco, just for Cross. Each little root tangled itself with Cross' tongue, rubbing and slathering their scent over it until Nightmare was sure Cross could taste every nuance.

It was then that Nightmare began to drain Cross' dick, forcibly ripping out one orgasm after another.

If Nightmare didn't get to eat without getting flustered, then Cross didn't either. And after a few more sessions of this, Nightmare was reasonably confident he will have etched the pleasure into Cross' very soul.

Cross moaned, the vibrations traveling through Nightmare's tendrils and reverberating in his ribcage, making his whole body tingle. He felt his magic condense in his pelvis, dripping down his leg. Feeling Cross go helpless, his emotions fogged up under slick pink arousal and humiliation, was a rush Nightmare never thought he'd get to experience by his own hand.

Nightmare was going to savor this, savor him, for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quite the change huh


	7. Day 06: A Dream left Hanging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Free Use | Sensory deprivation | Waxplay  
>  **Kinks:** Bondage; Masochism  
>  **Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dream / ???  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~600

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one today, sorry ^_^

Dream shivered, a chill breath of air ghosting over his bare bones. His arms and legs were beginning to cramp, buckled fast into the same tight position for only stars knew how long. The chill passed between his spread legs, caressing his pubic symphysis before his own body heat nullified it.

Earplugs and a blindfold made it impossible for Dream to see or hear, the world made dark, empty, and quiet. He couldn't feel anything from where he was suspended in the air, only the leather like straps and cuffs to tell him he was not in the void. Before he'd left him, Ink had given Dream a shot of one of his paints (a mixture of calming cyan and stimulating pink, if Dream had to guess, but he hadn't seen the colors at the time), clogging up his system and making it difficult to sense anything further than a few inches from his body.

Dream shifted, sighing audibly around the gag in his mouth (a long tubular thing that prodded at the back of his summoned throat, tangling up his tongue). Ink had left him there without more than a mischievous giggle, like an herb hung out to dry in the winter sun.

The chill was starting to get to Dream: it was always so cold in Nightmare's castle, and Dream was used to wearing layers. He was dripping in sweat, damp and cold and anxious, starting to worry if Ink had forgotten where he'd left him. His dear friend did have a bit of a faulty memory.

Maybe he should have declined their game-

Dream yelped as something scalding hot dripped onto his chest, sliding between his ribs to drip and cling to the inside of his ribcage. Dream puffed out his tiny, newly regrown wings, squirming uselessly in his bindings. It burned, the heat stoking the fire in his magic with such abruptness that he was almost dizzy from the rush of it taking shape into his dick.

Almost immediately, a skeletal hand took hold of his length, stroking him slow and sweet. Another drop of liquid fire fell onto Dream's lumbar spine, sliding down the planes of his vertebrae and seeping into the tender spaces between them to burn low. Dream gurgled wetly around the gag, feeling the moisture pool in his mouth and seep down his jaw. 

Another set of hands (there were two of them?) buried themselves in Dream's wings, gently, reverently preening the fragile new growths. Dream felt a face nuzzle into one wing, a tongue caressing the petals on his scapula. Dream screamed around the gag, dizzy with the sheer pleasure of such gentle affections.

Another glob of hot _something_ dripped down, splattering on Dream's sternum. Dream flinched, trembling as it slid down to cool in a strip along the arch of his lowest true ribs. It was agony, searing, burning agony as the heat of it caught into the subtle pores of his bones, clinging, cloying as it crusted and cooled and held fast to continue its torment.

It hurt _so good-_

Another splatter, hitting his clavicle and getting caught in a nook there, continued to burn him slow and sweet. The various points of intense heat scattered over his body were seeping deep into his senses, gathering in his core, and shooting down like lightning to converge on his pelvis. His dick throbbed like every cell of it was on fire, his magic stirred to a fever pitch.

Dream's whole world was heat, and darkness, and silence, and the hands stroking and rubbing him until he finally, finally came.

Dream sagged in his sling again, panting around the gag. He would have to remember to thank Ink, even if his friend would not remember why.


	8. Day 07: Flowering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** ~~Rimming~~ | Breeding | Tentacles  
>  **Kinks:** Heat; Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Sounding, Teasing  
>  **Pairing:** Honeycider (Dr33mtal3!Nightmare / Underswap!Papyrus)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.6k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a little abrupt and rough sorry XD

Nightmare whimpered from his place on the floor behind the throne, drenched in his own nectar and feeling like he had been left in the sun too long. His wings ached in a special kind of way, the scapular region itchy and throbbing. Worse, his magic was behaving erratically, independent of his conscious thought. Instinct took over, sending the tendrils to coil and thrash over his skeletal frame, slicking his nectar over him, tangling his limbs until they were useless, arms spread over his head and legs held wide open where he lay on the floor, squirming in a vain hope that the friction would scratch the itch on his back. The floor was already far too slick with his nectar, making it hopeless.

Tendrils teased his ribs, his summoned stomach, his hips and thighs, and his aching clit, but none of them would go near his pussy. He itched and ached, too tired to fight the body betraying him. He heard his phone ringing, but he couldn't reach it to answer it.

This season was worse than ever. He felt so drained, so _empty_...

* * *

Stretch sighed, putting his phone away. His last twenty calls hadn't gotten an answer, why would the next? Something was definitely wrong. Nightmare never ignored his calls without a good reason, or at least saying he was busy, or needed alone time, or something! The silent act was just making Stretch worry.

Stretch usually preferred to wait until he was invited to Nightmare's castle, but he still had his way to get in if he needed to. Stretch pulled out the vial of paint he'd gotten from his... friend? Friend seemed apt. He poured the paint into his sink, then jumped in, only to pop back out on the other side. The effect was considerably more disorienting than Nightmare's more sophisticated portals, but Stretch didn't have the luxury of being picky.

As soon as his insides stopped flipping, Stretch picked himself off the floor of the empty library and made his way down to the throne room. The air was sweet, like flowers, like crisp spring apples.

Stretch knew that smell. He went from his usual saunter to a brisk jog, less worried and more worried all at once.

The throne room was so thick with the sugary scent it was a struggle to breathe. Stretch felt hot all over, his magic going nuts. He ducked behind the curtains to get to Nightmare's private room, eager and dreading what he would see.

There was Nightmare, his signature ooze replaced by the pink sweetness that drove Stretch near to madness. He was on his back, wings spread under him and trembling as he squirmed. His own roots and vines were coiled up and down his body, holding his arms up over his head and his legs bent and spread, showing off his drenched pussy. One tendril was still going to town on his clit, while another had started prodding at his ass. As Stretch watched, that tendril squirmed into the puckered hole, making the usually quiet Nightmare cry out.

"holy shit-" Stretch breathed, kneeling down in front of Nightmare, between his legs. "can you hear me, bonsai?"

Nightmare panted, gasping. His sockets fluttered, but his eyelight was hazy and unfocused. " _H-honey..?_ "

"i'm here. is that ok?"

Stretch couldn't help noticing how Nightmare's magic fluttered, how more tendrils grew out to curl over him, around him, tugging him closer. Nightmare squirmed, shredded whimpers filling the air along with his intoxicating aroma. " _I..! Empty..!_ "

Stretch loomed over Nightmare, cupping his face, thumbing away some of his saliva. The pink ooze smelled of sweetest sugar, making Stretch dizzy. "hey. i'm here..." He murmured, pressing his teeth to Nightmare's frontal bone, right on his circlet, then again over the socket he still had squinted shut. Night started to cry, nuzzling into Stretch's hand. "i'm here..."

Night whimpered, bucking up into Stretch and trying to grind on him, leaving sticky dampness all over his pants and the bottom of his hoodie. " _Fill... Fill me... I..!_ "

Before Stretch could quite answer, a number of tentacles surged around him, slithering under his clothes and assaulting his pelvis in ways his body and soul both decided they liked. Stretch's vision stuttered. He doubled over, bracing himself on the floor on either side of Nightmare's head as he tried to adjust to the vines weaving between his ribs and slicking up his pubis. Between the (frankly, _hot as fuck_ ) noises and expressions Nightmare was making while writhing under him, and the feel of those tendrils stroking and squeezing and caressing his bones, it wasn't long before Stretch's dick was at full attention in his shorts.

Stretch didn't see it coming: a root pierced his analogue for a urethra, penetrating, sliding deep, deep, all the way to the wellspring of his magic, only to start sucking him dry. The feel of it, of being bled of his magic drop by drop- Stretch moaned, crumpling to lay limp over Nightmare. His legs quaked with the endless orgasm, unable to hold him up any more than his mind was able to think beyond the desperate whines from his boyfriend.

" _Yes- ye- more! Honey..! Fill- more..!!!!_ " Nightmare continued to buck and grind weakly into Stretch's pelvis, into his dick. The damp softness did little to ease the overstimulation.

"night- nightmare-!!" Stretch breathed, shifting as best he could to kiss him. Nightmare deserved kisses, he deserved to feel loved. Stretch wanted to give him that. Nightmare moaned, his taste that of sweetest nectar, sugar and fruity apple cider. Stretch was starting to get even more dizzy from the pleasure, pulling out of the kiss to hide in Nightmare's shoulder, gasping. He never knew he could cum so much at once.

Stretch shuddered, unable to keep his sockets open.

* * *

Nightmare must have passed out at some point, because when he awoke, his wings and back no longer ached, merely feeling heavy and overly full, like the leaves were bloated with water. Stretch was still on top of him, passed out and drenched in Nightmare's nectar, his handsome orange hoodie stained a lewd pink. Nightmare brought his aching arms down from where they'd been tied over his head, sighing in relief as he wrapped them around Stretch's neck.

The foolish mortal: Nightmare would never understand why Strech did the things he did. Even so, there was a soft fondness budding in his soul. He nuzzled the fool, suffused in a deep, boundless serenity, full and content with his lover in his arms.

They lay there together a little longer before Stretch began to stir. Stretch made a soft noise, fingers twitching against Nightmare's bare ribs, disturbing the slick still clinging to them there. "mmmm, night..?"

" _I am here, my fool,_ " Nightmare assured. " _As you are here, though I wonder why..._ "

"worried," Stretch mumbled, snuggling in.

" _Heavy,_ " Nightmare corrected in an attempt at mimicking playfulness. " _Can you move?_ "

Stretch grunted, mumbling to himself as he tested his range of motion. He slowly sat up, sighing with a fond grin, radiating a miasma of positivity and blunt affection. "morning, my lil bonsai."

Nightmare fought the instinct to blush, the instinct to screech. " _Must you feel so strongly?!_ "

Stretch then undid all his efforts by leaning back down to give a soft kiss to Nightmare's teeth. "for you? yeah."

Night squirmed, his wings and pelvis sparking with lightning and need. He shoved Stretch's face away with his hand. " _Silence!!_ "

Stretch laughed, his affection and boundless amusement never wavering as he nuzzled into Nightmare's palm, one eye squinted shut over his ever widening smile. "aww, cmon. last night you couldn't get enough of me. you wanted filled so much you drained me dr-" Stretch stopped. "oh." Stretch's sudden spike of surprise, arousal, and something adjacent to smugness gave Nightmare pause.

" _What?_ "

"do you... have a breeding kink???"

" _I- I refuse to answer that!_ "

"you can't lie~!" Stretch reminded him (as if Nightmare wasn't aware of it at all times, always). He sat back, pulling Nightmare into his lap and cuddling him close. "you wanna get filled up and bred? make like, what do trees do, nuts? want me to fertilize your nuts? mix my seed with your seed and make little baby super seeds that sprout flowers and-"

Nightmare shoved the fool, the idiot, the bastard. " _I said 'silence,' you babbling fuckface!_ "

"you're blushing!" Stretch chuckled, guiding Nightmare back into a kiss, which Nightmare allowed. "it's okay. ya like what ya like."

Nightmare huffed, tucking himself closer to hide his face. If Stretch wanted to speak nonsense and get more of a rise out of him, Nightmare didn't have to humor him.

Stretch's fingers soothed over Nightmare's back, up and up to his scapular region to tease and stroke at his petals. Nightmare's wings trembled the closer he got, even more sensitive than usual. Stretch made a curious noise. "what is..?"

Then he touched something, something fragile and precious and in need of protection, sending a jolt of something that was a blend of shock and pleasure through Nightmare's whole body. Night gasped, clinging tighter to the ruined hoodie, feeling a renewal in the production of his nectar.

"holy shit, you, uh... are these flowers?" Stretch's fingers dipped in between the softness, stroking at the tender rods that sent lightning through Night's body. Nightmare couldn't respond with more than a wordless keen. Stretch's arousal and delight only compounded the sensation, making Nightmare dizzy. "holy shit, we really did- oh shit, what's-"

" _Shut up, for all that is sacred in life, shut the fuck up,_ " Nightmare begged, mortified.

Stretch purred, stroking the area around Nightmare's flowers, massaging the tension out of him. "okay."

Nightmare sighed, snuggling in closer. At least, Stretch didn't seem to mind. Now he just had to figure out how to hide them.


	9. Day 08: Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** ~~Menophilia~~ | Casting couch | Bukkake  
>  **Kinks:** Overstimulation, Temperature Play, Teasing  
>  **Pairing:** Underlust!Sansby+ (Underlust! Grillby / Sans w/ Doggo, GD, LD)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; weird cum; implied/referenced prostitution  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.5k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually write Sansby haha

Sans took a deep breath of the chill night air, steeling himself for the interview that could make or break his plans for the rest of his life. There weren't a lot of job opportunities out in the boonies of Snowdin, and Sans had no intention of ever going back to the lab.

Never. Never again. He had fucked up enough.

Before letting himself change his mind, Sans pushed open the door of the strip club and stepped into the crowd. The lights were off, but the room was strangely well lit for a nightclub. Sans attributed that to the proprietor, who seemed to be the sole lightsource for most of the room. Sans had heard of Grillby through the grapevine, but he'd never seen him before.

Hard to miss a man made of literal fire, though, so Sans was fairly certain he had the right person as he approached the bar. "heya, are you grillby?"

The elemental looked up from his work cleaning the shot glasses. "That I am. You're..." Reading an elemental's expressions was an acquired skill, but Sans got the impression he was being looked over with intense scrutiny. "...new. Got a name?"

"sans," He introduced himself, sitting on one of the stools. "sans the skeleton."

"What can i get for you, Sans?"

"well," Sans considered how to phrase it. "i was hoping to pick up some work. you have any room for a... dancer?"

Grillby shifted, thoughtful flickers of flame dancing overhead. "There is a lot of competition for work around here... I try to spread it out best I can... maybe... we could discuss it more in the back?" He gestured.

Sans smirked. "i think that sounds like a great idea."

Grillby set aside his cleaning gloves, slipping out from behind the bar and walking casually over to a door labeled 'fire exit'. He opened it, beckoning Sans to go in first.

Sans did, following the corridor to a back room with a comfortable looking couch. Grillby brushed past his shoulder, the brief touch heated, and sat himself down.

"So... Why don't you show me what you can do?"

Sans looked around, hooking his thumbs in the flare of his vest pockets. "i don't see a pole in here..." he couldn't help thinking aloud.

"If a pole is what you need..." Grillby's hand moved to the crotch of his jeans.

"i'll just have to make my own, huh?" Sans finished for him, snapping a finger to summon a bone construct that went floor to ceiling. He could see how this threw Grillby off, feeling the rush of having the man's full attention. With his potential employer now entranced, Sans hooked his leg around the bone-pole and spun, then kicked himself up to hang upside down, legs spread and still twirling.

So that was what an elemental's jaw looked like on the floor.

Sans chuckled, heaving himself up by his knees to lean upright against the bone-pole in midair. "oh. did i misunderstand? was i supposed to dance on a different kind of pole?" Sans let one shoulder of his jacket slide down, showing off the end of his clavicle. "oops. guess i better... make the most of this, huh?"

"Yeah." Grillby's voice was dazed agreement, a vice grip on the v between his legs, where a bulge was growing.

Smug for all the right reasons, Sans started slowly shedding his clothes. First, his vest, then his shirt, leaving his ribs and spine open to the air. He gave a few minutes just to jam out to the bass beat leaking through the walls from the club proper, showing off the way his ribs expanded and contracted, showing off the way his spine bent and curved. Grillby couldn't look away, and that was exactly what Sans wanted.

He had to make a good first impression. He needed this job.

Next, Sans took a firm grip of the pole, going upside down again. He kicked off his boots, arching elegantly to show off the point of his toes. He enjoyed the easy stretch, knowing the next part was going to be the hard one. After bracing himself again, Sans eased his body away from the pole at a right angle, and, holding firmly with his one hand (and a little blue magic, just for safety), Sans reached out with his other hand and eased off his pants, letting them fall so the whole of his naked bones were on complete display.

Sans had the distinct pleasure of watching Grillby slowly pull out his very stiff dick and stroke it in anticipation.

"excellent form," Grillby praised, voice more crackling than tone now.

"you like what you see?"

"I tend to like things I touch better."

Sans chuckled, sliding down the bone-pole until he was back on his feet. He let the construct vanish, slinking to Grillby and straddling his lap. "what you wanna touch, then?"

"Everything." And Grillby proved his words with his hands, his flames engulfing Sans. The fire spread, licking at tiny places no one and nothing else ever seemed to reach, places Sans had never touched himself. Sans could almost hear the fire chittering in his bones, moving, exploring, thriving.

"oh, fuck-!" Sans clung to Grillby's shoulders, trying to keep his balance as his patella decided to go on strike from overstimulated conditions. His vision was warped with the heat, making the blue of Grillby's 'frosted' (heh, an anti-pun, nice) tips blurr in the air and his orange body haze in all directions. Grillby must have been helping support him, but Sans could only register 'heat' and 'pleasure' at the moment, all his sensory processes working overtime to keep up with the input.

"Yes, that is the idea," Grillby admitted aloud, as if Sans could have missed the innuendo all the way up to this point. "Never been with a skeleton before, but... _wow_."

Sans would have laughed if he wasn't trying not to moan.

"It doesn't even matter that there isn't anything on you to fuck," Grillby murmured (and wasn't it going to be funny when Sans manifested the best pussy in Hotland just for him), "you're so amazing looking i can- i-"

Something hot and molten splashed all over Sans' chest and spine, like hot wax, like hot water, like overheated cum. Sans cried out, shuddering through a spike of arousal that was making it hard to keep his dick from taking shape.

"You up for, maybe, a group test run?" Grillby asked.

Sans nodded. "y-yeah. more the merrier..!" Oh, fuck, he was so hot, he could barely think straight. With Grillby's fire in him, could he even manage to make his magic manifest??

Grillby settled the more physical part of his hand on Sans' lumbar, spreading the melted wax substance over Sans' bones. "Wonderful..." He used his other hand to use his phone, still enjoying the lightshow he had made of Sans' bones, stroking his spine up, and down, and up and down again.

At this rate, Sans was going to come whether his genitals showed up or not.

Just before the feat was managed (and by 'just before', Sans meant he was so close to the edge he could feel himself freefalling), the door opened and in came a pack of hungry looking dog monsters. Sans whined as Grillby stilled his hand, sagging into the elemental while trying to catch his breath.

Boofs and yips abounded. "What was the call for?" Asked the one dog that spoke fluent common.

"This new fellow is interviewing for a position here. I wanted to see how he would get along with my regulars." Grillby purred, picking Sans up and turning him so his back was to Grillby's chest. Sans blinked, vision still blurry from the heat and overstimulated tears. He couldn't quite stop shivering, or gyrating his hips, seeking out friction he couldn't get as long as Grillby's fire had him hostage (deliciously, deliciously hostage, fuck, it should not turn Sans on that much being engulfed in fire).

The bigger dog boofed, tail wagging excitedly. the smaller dog yipped, darting forward to get in Sans' lap and lick his face. Sans wrapped his arms around the smaller dog, nuzzling his impressive softness. "n-nice ta meet'cha. name's sans. just moved into town..."

A greeting yip. Lesser Dog? Sans could remember that.

The larger dog boofed. Greater Dog? Sans could remember that too.

"I'm Doggo," Said the last one, unzipping his khakis. The sound of it reminded the other two dogs why they were there (as if Sans being naked and covered in lava cum wasn't indication enough -- bless their little souls).

Lesser jumped back from Sans, standing by Greater as the two of them followed Doggo's example.

"How about you show them what you showed me?" Grillby suggested, right before sending his fire back through Sans all over again. Sans clung to Grillby, reaching over his head to circle around Grillby's neck behind him. He arched his back, vision whiting out entirely as he was promptly shoved over the edge. He felt the burst of damp splatter in his ribcage, dripping down and through him as he shuddered through his orgasm.

Three growls of agreement vibrated through the room, and not long after, Sans was drenched in sticky, hot cum from them all, smelling of dog treats and salt and the musk of mammalian monsters that lingered.

Not that Sans was complaining. He just knew he'd be in for a long bath later on.

"s-so... do i get the job..?"


	10. Day 09: Misunderstandings and Something Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Pegging | Emetophilia | Clone sex/selfcest  
>  **Kinks:** Aphrodisiacs; Overstimulation; Scent; Praise  
>  **Pairing:** Ink (_____tale!Sans) / Dr33mtal3!Nightmare  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Noncon/Dubcon; Intoxication/Drugs  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.5k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one went to a weird place but oh well XD

Ink really needed to lay off the fucking sauce.

Nightmare sat at his desk in his library, doing his own paperwork for once (since _Cross_ , the ungrateful useless abomination -- maybe Nightmare had been hanging around Error too much, but he didn't care, and anyone who said a word was getting stuffed into the wall and left there -- was too busy to do so), meanwhile _Ink_ , for some reason Nightmare could not fathom, was running back and forth around the room like a toddler who got into the Redbull. He kept pulling random books off the shelves, making stupid excited noises, chugging orange paint, and repeating the process after tossing the book over his shoulder. Nightmare kept having to stop and put the books back before Ink's titular projectile vomit could ruin the carefully preserved pages.

"This handwriting is so pretty! Who wrote all this?!" Ink finally asked coherently. 

" _I wrote the ledgers until bringing Cross into my employ,_ " Nightmare deadpanned.

"What does it say?" Ink asked. 

Knowing Ink didn't read Latin made his insistence on poking his nasal cavity where it did not belong a little more bearable. Nightmare reminded himself he had to be cordial to his guest, and cordial behavior unfortunately did not include non-consensual strangulation. " _They say many things,_ " Nightmare answered, honest even in his deflection.

"Yeah, but what kind of things?" Ink asked more earnestly, climbing up to sit on Nightmare's desk, nearly spilling his inkwell all over his current ledgers. Night hastily righted and secured the vial with a tendril, restraining his hand from reaching out to snap the intruder's neck.

" _Just. Things._ " Nightmare's tone was clipped, irrational ire held in strict reign by his iron will and his promises. " _Notes, stray thoughts, recorded documentation of inventory. I can hardly be expected to remember such minute detail as spanned over a millennium._ "

"Are you really that old?"

" _There are, quite literally, over a thousand notebooks and journals stuffed in this room,_ " Nightmare growled. " _Millennium, from the latin mille, meaning thousand, and annus, meaning year. Extrapolate the answer for yourself, if you must. I. Am. Busy._ " Nightmare then turned back to hunch over his desk, hoping he had made himself and his intentions clear.

Ink, unperturbed (as all soulless abominations were by their very nature) pushed himself back to the floor and resumed his incessant investigations. Nightmare triggered one of his vines to run on autopilot, following Ink around the room as he prattled meaningless drivel about something or other.

Ink circled around a bookshelf, headed towards the back where older volumes were stashed away. Nightmare thought nothing of it until Ink went unnaturally quiet. When Nightmare looked back up, Ink was clutching a box, staring at Nightmare from alarmingly close (too close, personal-space-violating close).

Nightmare tried not to shriek (and failed), flinching back and falling off his stool. He instinctively fluttered his wings, but after years of neglect, they did little more than provide a counterbalance and a bit of drag that helped soften his fall. His tendrils snapped out, getting between him and the sudden appearance of the soulless husk, an instinctive defensive gesture his arms mimicked redundantly when he cringed. It took a second too long for Nightmare to compose himself, using his vines to lift himself off the floor and look as menacing (and not afraid) as possible. " _Do not do that!_ "

Ink continued to stare at him, his eyelights flashing rapidly. "Nightmare, is this... yours?" Ink held up the box. 

Nightmare inspected the old thing. It was ancient, carved of old wood that smelled of something he resented ever smelling again. The ornate carvings were crude and unfinished, chipped in places and scratched in others. Inside were loose papers, some in better condition than others, looking so frail and worn that even the slightest attempt to handle them would break them into dust.

Nightmare leered at the old box. " _What does it matter to you?_ "

Ink pulled out one of the pages, his touch as delicate as the landing of a dandelion seed in a spring breeze. Even in the dim light of his castle, Nightmare could see the shimmer of gilding on some of the strokes, the old calligraphy surprisingly well preserved. Compared to his current handwriting, it was unsteady and childish, the work of an amateur, but Nightmare would recognize his own hand anywhere.

"It's calligraphy," Ink said, when all he got from Nightmare was a raised brow ridge.

" _It is the leftover chicken scratch of a child learning literacy._ "

"It's complete with illustrations in the margins."

" _The crude practice of a novice._ "

"It's beautiful."

" _It is valueless._ "

"It is _art!_ "

Nightmare rubbed at his nasal ridge, willing away the headache attempting to take over. " _Clarify your point, for I have already lost it._ "

"Did you-" Ink started, only to stall out, freezing like a statue posed and left to model the clothes that hung on him. Nightmare crossed his arms, waiting out the few moments when Ink's eyelights were dark and he was rendered as empty and lifeless as he felt to anyone with eyes that see the truth. Thankfully, as sudden as the spark of inexplicable life guttered out, it reignited (and thank the stars for that; if Nightmare had to try and explain a 'death' on his watch, he'd not likely survive past the trial). Ink shook himself, looking around as if for the first time, dropping the box in the process (which Nightmare caught midair with his tendrils, setting it on his desk to be tucked away later).

Ink downed a good shot of orange paint, promptly vomiting up black as if to maintain the balance in the universe. "Wow..!! This is-" He stopped, staring at the paper still held so reverently in his other hand. "...What is... Nightmare, did you do this?"

Nightmare scoffed. " _Yes, yes, congratulations, you discovered an old manuscript. Now put that back in the box._ "

Ink stared at the paper, then Nightmare, then the paper again, before carefully returning it to the box and closing the lid. Nightmare thought that perhaps, finally, he could be allowed the breathing room to actually work. He turned his full attention back to his desk as Ink began sipping from other colors that Nightmare paid no mind.

He had only written three lines when Ink gripped Nightmare by the shoulders, turned him to the side, and pulled him down enough to kiss him full on the mouth.

Nightmare bristled, his first instinct to shove Ink away (and perhaps skewer him a few times- his lore was a bit fuzzy but he recalled revenants needed beheaded and a rock shoved between their teeth), however, Ink's tongues invaded his mouth, and Nightmare was hit with a scent that had him going limp. It smelled like... like Stretch made him feel? Like...

Softness. Safety. ~~Love.~~

It was addicting, the presence of it stilling his hand and his thoughts, begging to draw the source of it closer, _closer_.

Dangerous, Ink was dangerous, to be so inexplicably tempting. He was a mousetrap that could self equip with the most fragrant of cheeses, a bird feeder full of the sweetest seeds and sugar, an oasis in the desert. He could be whatever Nightmare wanted him to be.

And it would always be a lie, a trap.

Nightmare blinked. One moment he was on his feet, ready to fight off a dangerous assailant, the next he was all but nesting on the floor, leaning on Ink with his roots surrounding them, clinging, seeking out more of that scent. Ink grinned, false cheer and false excitement mixing into a blended smugness, a honey gold glitter in his eyelights.

"Wow, you're really affectionate!" Ink thought aloud, thumb feeling along Nightmare's cheekbone, following the curve under his ooze. "It's not like what I expected at all. Wow, are you blushing?! Is that a blush under there?! So colorful!"

"How dare you," Nightmare hissed, still feeling overly warm and light headed. " _I am- I- I-_ "

Damn his nature. Damn his expressive emotion-heavy magic. Damn everything and everyone who contributed to making this moment in time. Damn the heat building in his wings, in his chest, in his pelvis.

"You are! You're totally b-" Ink interrupted himself by spewing black ink all over the both of them. Nightmare flinched, shaking himself, but the scent of it was driving him crazy: it smelled like another plant, damp and warm and coaxing, like the softness, like spring-

_Oh fuck, like spring-_

"Sorry, sorry, totally involuntary," Ink chuckled. "It's just what happens when I'm- uh..."

Nightmare couldn't see Ink's face anymore, having tucked himself in to hide. The stink of spring and sweetness was overpowering, and Nightmare could already feel his limbs losing strength. He was dizzy. He barely had the strength to cling to Ink's shirt.

He couldn't believe he'd fallen for such an obvious trap. This was their plan all along, to lull him into a false sense of security, then drug him to weakness. They were going to kill him, or worse, it was going to hurt! He deserved it, he was evil, but-

"Woah, you're shaking like a leaf! Well, I guess you are a leaf, but like a scared leaf. Do leaves get scared? Do _you_ get scared?" Ink slid an arm under Nightmare's wings, his other hand smoothing over the back of Nightmare's skull. "Ya know, I really like this shade of pink."

Nightmare was trying to brace for the attack, but his body refused to brace for anything. His scapulae burned, his pelvis felt hot and heavy and needed to be touched. He couldn't stop squirming. His skull was fogged up with heat and the dizzying scent of Ink's pigments.

"I also really, really liked your art. Super liked it. It's so rare to find artsy Sans types, you know? I got Cross to draw with me for a while but I think he's still angry about something, and Dream never showed interest, and Blue is so busy with training, and- uh, wow, you're still shaking. Are you okay? I'm supposed to ask that, right?"

Ink had been petting on Nightmare, his hands moving absent and slow. Nightmare kept waiting for them to turn painful, but they remained curious, exploratory. The one that had been on his skull slid down, hooking a hard angle to stroke along the ridge of Nightmare's wings. Nightmare tensed, waiting for the pain, but still none came. Ink fondled his wing, scritching the ridge and between the leaves.

That felt amazing. Nightmare hoped that Ink didn't notice his involuntary noises-

"Woah, was that a moan?" - _Fuck Nightmare, apparently-_ "You're really worked up huh? Smells pretty great in here now, too..."

Nightmare felt his assets form under his clothes, and that really made it even harder to hold still. One of his roots slid between his legs, giving Nightmare something to grind on, but he knew it would be futile. 

" _Just-_ " Nightmare panted, barely able to think straight. " _Just finish me, already-!!_ " he demanded. The soulless bastard had taken his dignity. He didn't have to drag it out any longer. Just kill him and be done with it.

Ink's petting continued. Nightmare looked up at him (and that was odd, given Ink was one of the few people Nightmare had height on). His vision was blurry, but he could still see the vaguest of shapes and the colors blended in Ink's eyelights. Ink was stoic aside from those rapidly shifting eyelights- "Finish you?" -which flashed into exclamation points and hearts after a few moments. "Oh! Finish you! Well, ok? I think I can do that!"

Ink used his excessive strength to ease Nightmare off him, putting Nightmare on his back on the floor. He smiled down at Nightmare, pulling out purple and pink vials and taking a swig of each before twirling his broom over his head. "I know just the thing to finish you good!"

Nightmare watched, going to at least face his destruction head on.

Ink used his brush to paint something on his waist. It started formless, slowly taking the defined shape of a belt? There was more, growing between his legs and then outward into a phallic shape. Ink stroked the strap-on with his free hand, adjusting to it with a smile. 

Nightmare stared at it, not understanding until Ink knelt down and pulled Nightmare's breeches apart at the seams.

"Woah," Ink gasped, holding Nightmare's legs open to look between them. "That's a pretty nice shade of pink, all right!"

Nightmare felt himself getting more slick just from being looked at, just from his words. Then Ink threw up more and the smell fogged up the last bit of his cognitive processes. When he felt Ink grind the strapon against his slit, he ground onto it, throwing his head back as an itch he had been ignoring was finally scratched.

"You're super vocal huh? Neat!" Ink continued to make conversation. "But I want this to be interesting for me too, so... How about mixing it up a bit with..."

Then there was a finger in Nightmare's ass, stretching him open as he humped Ink's toy uselessly.

"You remind me of Error like this..." Ink murmured out loud, adding a second finger and scissoring Nightmare open.

Nightmare arched his back, the pressure and attention starting to resonate in his extremities with electric charges to his nerves. He blinked tears from his eye sockets.

When was Ink going to hurt him? When was he going to get it over with?

Ink pulled his fingers out, then eased his strap on into Nightmare slowly. He hiked Nightmare's legs over his hips, pulling him closer, grinding his wings and back across the floor. The sudden stimulation from so many places at once ripped a noise from Nightmare.

Why was Ink being so gentle?!

"That's a nice noise! Can you make it again?" Ink asked, that smug grin coming back under his throbbing heart pips. He started rolling his hips, slow at first, then faster, faster, pounding into Nightmare's magic. The pleasure was the building heat of summer, toe-curling and rhythmic and hot.

"This is a great view. I'm gonna enjoy drawing this..." Ink hummed, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil. "You've been real nice lately, you know? Not breaking any bones, letting me explore, now giving me some great expression references! Nice sounds too!"

Nightmare shivered, clinging with legs and limp tendrils. Ink... wasn't hurting him? He was... He was being a weird soulless freak, but he wasn't hurting him?? Hell, if he kept that up, Nightmare was-

Crying out, Nightmare came, seizing with the sudden jolt of it.

"So I finished you?"

Nightmare was too dizzy, too warm, too comfortable to answer. He sighed, letting himself drift to sleep.

* * *

Ink blinked down at Nightmare. He made a rather artistic display, drenched in pinks and blacks, blissed out and flushed. Ink could squeeze a lot of art out of this experience.

Nightmare really was sweet, deep down. Ink decided to be glad for it. Friends were nice, after all. Convenient, too. 

Now what came after sex? Oh, right. Aftercare. Did this place even have a bathroom?

He supposed his tongue would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inks are made out of plants huhuhu


	11. Day 10: Sleep With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Mommy/Daddy kink | Somnophilia | ~~Scissoring~~  
>  **Kinks:** Teasing; Dacryphilia; Scars; Orgasm Denial; Knotting; Breeding  
>  **Pairing:** Underfell!Papyrus / Underpatch!Sans  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.9k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new ship sets sail!  
> time to test the smut-

Edge bit back a sigh as Garish settled in his lap like a demanding cat, legs hooked over the bend of Edge's arm in a bridal style hold with Garish squarely between Edge and his book. "CAN I HELP YOU?" Edge asked, trying his hardest to keep his amusement out of both his tone and expression.

Garish made a show of inspecting the tips of his distal phalanges, as if there were nails in need of upkeep. "Hmm? Oh, heya, Slick, didn't see you there." His grin was as sharp as Edge's finest kitchen knife, and twice as seasoned at leaving marks behind. "But since I have your attention, think you might be able to do me a favor?"

Edge closed his book, tossing it gently to the coffee table with a flick of his wrist. He used his now free hands to cradle Garish properly, pulling him closer. "A FAVOR?"

"Yup." Garish popped the 'p', tucking himself up close to Edge's neck (minx, he knew what that did to him). "It's not a particularly hard request, but..."

"BUT WHAT?" It wasn't like Garish to beat around the proverbial bush.

"I know you aren't keen on being vulnerable, but I was hoping... Maybe..." Garish pulled out a small flask. "I was dicking around with soul theory again and I made a sedative. I was hoping you'd take it and let me molest your body in your sleep."

That blunt honesty was one thing Edge loved about his pet. He looked at the bottle. "YOU WANT ME TO SLEEP. SO YOU CAN DO THINGS. TO ME? IN MY SLEEP?"

"Uh." Garish's face flushed a soft gold. Edge smelled pecans and cinnamon. "Is that okay?"

Edge didn't quite understand Garish at times. There were always those little moments where Garish seemed different between one second and the next. Edge also had to admit that his pet had little pleasures that Edge couldn't rationalize. Indulging in them was one of Edge's little pleasures.

He had a sneaking suspicion this one was more than that, however. "ARE YOU JUST TRYING TO JAPE ME INTO SLEEPING?"

"You haven't slept for two weeks, you lunatic, and also I'm horny."

"I CAN FIX THAT."

"I know you can," Garish grumbled. "But you also need to sleep sometimes."

Edge sighed, stroking absently at the curves of Garish's ribs. "IF YOU PROMISE NOT TO LEAVE THE APARTMENT."

"Trust me, Slick, I won't be going anywhere."

"AND NO GUESTS!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"...THEN. I SUPPOSE. AS MY PET, I CAN TRUST YOU TO DO AS YOU LIKE." Edge didn't like the idea of leaving Garish unprotected, but his pet could handle a few hours... It would be fine. Edge would wake up if there was danger, surely.

Garish grinned, wicked and relieved all at once in that way he had about him. "Great! So go get ready for bed, baby." He pat Edge's cheek softly, twice, before crawling out of Edge's arms and slinking to the bedroom.

Edge gave his book one last glance before going to triple check the locks.

* * *

It had been an hour since Edge took the sedative G had made. Given how powerful G had specifically engineered it to be, he was surprised his boyfriend lasted that long before slipping away. Edge had been his usual tense, alert self right up until the last possible moment, when his grip on his book faltered and he slumped like a puppet with broken strings.

A part of G loved how long Edge had held out, so proud of him for being that badass, that strong. A part of G was relieved it had finally worked, excited to have him at his mercy at last. G gently took Edge's book, placing the bookmark between the pages and setting it on the side table, just where Edge liked to keep his latest indulgence.

Now Edge was going to be G's indulgence, and _damn_ if that wasn't a rush.

Edge had passed out while laying on his side, so G rolled him onto his back. Edge's one arm settled across his chest, raising and falling with his soft, slow breathing. G smiled, taking hold of his wrist and bringing it up to kiss, to nibble. Just because Edge was asleep didn't mean G should skimp on the romance.

In fact, that was part of the experiment.

Not that G saw Edge as a test subject: Edge was his boyfriend and he loved and admired him, he was so cool and strong and clever and G wanted to make him happy. Except, Edge was absolutely a test subject, and G was going to enjoy every little test, every little scrap of data he could wring from his pliant body.

G gently set Edge's arm down at his side, sitting back to admire the sight. Edge was in a two-piece silken pajama set, vivid gold (G's color, like it was just a coincidence) with a dark red trim around the hems. It shimmered in the dim light, highlighting the handsome planes of Edge's figure. As a bonus, the shirt buttoned in the front, and it was a simple, leisurely task of unbuttoning it, slowly, savoring the reveal of Edge's scarred and supple ribcage.

Next, G eased down Edge's pajama pants, leaving little kisses down one leg as he worked. Edge's bones shivered in the chill air, not used to being so exposed. G folded the pants and set them aside neatly, knowing Edge would appreciate it. "don't worry, baby, daddy's got you."

A part of G was kinkshaming the other part of G that was apparently into that. G ignored it all, more interested in Edge. He snapped his fingers (a useless gesture, merely for show, but his baby deserved every bit of flare) and summoned a number of hand constructs. He gestured, smiling to himself as he watched them take position at his silent command.

G started by slowly stroking over Edge's ribs, tracing every scar systematically, memorizing their every detail. G felt his constructs like they were a part of his body, as much an extension of him as the hands bound to his wrists. He set one pair of hand constructs to the task, one on each side of Edge's sternum, working from the outside in, going down. The first time one of his fingers caught on a deep groove, Edge's breathing stuttered. G went still, holding his breath, waiting to see if Edge would awaken so easily.

Edge trembled, then relaxed once more. Pleased, G resumed his careful exploration. He'd known Edge's scars were sensitive, but Edge always played it off as mild. To think they were that tender, that easily influenced by intent... It was a terribly important find. A delicious find. "That's it, baby, tell daddy all your secrets," G purred quietly in Edge's acoustic meatus, leaning over him as he watched his hands make slow, languid work of his bones.

Edge's joints and scars started to glow, pale red that grew more vivid by the moment.

When he had finished giving the last rib attention, G sent that pair of hands to start all over again from the top. At the same time, he had a second pair begin to stroke at Edge's neck and lumbar vertebrae, teasing at the joints. Edge arched into those hands, weakly, thoughtlessly seeking their touch. The glow in his joints grew brighter.

A third set of hands started to massage and scratch lightly at the wings of Edge's narrow pelvis, smoothing over the curve of his iliac crests. The bone there was starting to slick with sweat, warm under his touch. G settled his solid hand on Edge's furrowed brow, thumbing sweat from his skull. He watched as magic gathered in his pelvic inlet, pooling there, directionless. G stuck a finger into it, stirring it and watching with unrestrained delight as Edge let out an honest to god moan.

"Yeah, tell daddy all about it, baby," G murmured. "You never let me treat you right, do ya?" Edge sighed sweetly, his head turning from one side to the other, towards G. G leaned down to kiss his skull, purring deep and primal in his own ribs. Relaxed, aroused, honest: G was loving every second of this, every second of finding out exactly how Edge liked being touched and tended to.

It was starting to get uncomfortably warm and tight in G's own pants. He started to shuck them off as he directed his hand construct to stirr Edge's magic further, to coax it to shape. As his fingers teased and curled in the formless mana, G watched in delight as Edge's colors changed, shifting from vivid reds to striking deep blues. Edge was starting to breathe heavier, panting as his fingers twitched and his toes curled.

Edge was so sweetly, unfairly accommodating, forming his assets with very little resistance. G had his construct stroke Edge's new shaft slow and sweet, watching as the blue and yellow translucent objects mixed in the dim light to make a pretty green. G stroked himself off, keeping in time with the construct on Edge, struggling to keep himself from pouncing. He had to be patient, after all, slow, meticulous.

He had only just begun.

G paid special attention to every tell, every twitch and throb. He added more and more hand constructs, massaging Edge's feet, his shoulders, and even getting under him to rub his sacrum. Edge trembled under G's touch, soft, tattered whimpers escaping his parted teeth. A single, glittering rivulet of saliva slid down his jaw, eventually joined by matching tears that clung to his closed sockets as long as they could before overflowing.

G shuddered, fighting back his own climax and tearing his hand away from his bulging knot. He knelt down between Edge's splayed knees, licking one of his fingers before starting to work Edge's twitching, puckered exit open. "Just hold on a little longer, baby. Daddy's gonna give you exactly what you want..."

When he was sure Edge was prepared enough, G had his constructs carefully turn Edge back on his side, arranging his arms to something he knew Edge found comfortable. He then dismissed them, getting behind Edge and spooning him, purring at the sheer delight of being the big spoon. He snuggled there, rutting into Edge's sacrum before easing his rather tender dick into Edge, going slow, thrusting shallow to help work in his knot.

Edge's voice, squeezed from him through the whole process, was like music to G's ears. He kissed on Edge's neck and shoulders, reaching around to grip his hand and tangle their fingers together. He used his other hand on Edge's dick, sliding the shaft through the hole in his palm right down to the base. It was a bit of a tight fit, but G wasn't worried.

G's knot slid in, and a few more thrusts later, G let himself finally come, locking himself in his love and filling him. He let go of Edge's hand to instead rub at his quickly forming middle, shivering with a smug, primal satisfaction. The throbbing in Edge's dick, the way his hips jerked, his legs kicked, and his magic clenched, was just icing on the cake: G felt Edge's magic spark in his hand, his dick attempting to swell and release Edge's climax, but the bone of G's hand wouldn't budge, acting as a cock ring, while letting G feel every ounce of energy and heat from the aborted orgasm on one of his most sensitive surfaces. G growned, tangling his legs with Edge's, snuggling closer.

Edge remained asleep. No paperwork, no cleaning, no research: just him, and G, and the heady afterglow, and hours to doze, tangled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edge is gonna wake up with the strangest case of blue balls and horny~
> 
> and g gets to enjoy that too!


	12. Day 11: Sugar, Socks, and Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Watersports | Temperature play | Stockings  
>  **Kinks:** Kissing; Scent; Tentacles; Fingering  
>  **Pairing:** Honeycider (Dr33mtal3!Nightmare / Underswap!Papyrus)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.8k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is low key one of my favorites for this year

" _You are ridiculous,_ " Nightmare murmured, voice soft as the echo of distant bells.

Stretch pulled the straw from his teeth, looking down at the fae all but in his lap. Nightmare was laying on his side, one arm tucked under Stretch's knee while the other stroked languidly up and down his thigh, sliding against his brand new stockings.

"and how am i ridiculous?" Stretch demanded to know, gesturing with his spider cider. Most of the drink was gone, the naked glass clinking musically in its cheap styrofoam prison.

" _You did not have to put them on immediately, you know._ " Nightmare may have thought he was keeping his cool, but Stretch heard the open glee in his voice just fine. That was proof enough that, yes, he _had_ needed to put them on immediately. The stockings were the softest cotton he had ever worn, buzzing faintly with residual magic that felt heavenly on his joints, almost like a massage. The soft purple color matched his orange hoodie nicely, perfect for when the fall holidays finally came around. The way Nightmare kept rubbing his cheek against his knee, purring soft and stroking down the line of his tibia, just reinforced the idea that these were officially his new favorite stockings.

"you gave them to me, so, yeah, i did," Stretch tried explaining. Nightmare's little wings fluffed up at the reminder, before smoothing out as if preened by his words alone. His usual coating of dark slime had slid off, pooling in a mess under them, leaving behind only a few stubborn globs and what had soaked irreparably into his clothing. Like this, his eyelight dilated and hazy at the edges, face pressed close to hide his injured socket against Stretch's body, it was impossible to reconcile him with his past reputation.

Then again, Stretch had very little personal experience with Nightmare's facade. He knew him longer as this than he had as that. He knew it was still difficult for those Nightmare had done wrong, and there was still much to do in terms of reparation, but to Stretch, Nightmare would always be his happy little bonsai.

" _Must you be so pleased with yourself? You'll make me ill,_ " Nightmare complained, no real bite to his words.

"you'll get used to it," Stretch dismissed, using his empty hand to fiddle with one of the many tendrils draped over his body. "besides, i think you secretly like your 'stomach aches'."

" _Silence._ " Nightmare blushed faintly in a pretty robin's-egg-blue, his embarrassment confirmation enough of his little kink. Stretch could already see the slight fullness padding out his clothes, his hips and legs beginning to squirm. Nightmare still had trouble feeding on positivity, but nowadays that was most of what he got. Stretch sure as hell went out of his way to see to it.

Pleased with himself and feeling particularly vengeful, Stretch took hold of the root he was fidgeting with, bringing it to his teeth for a gentle kiss. Nightmare's entire body, roots and wings and face, immediately flushed a pretty candy pink, the scent of apples filling the air. A strangled, fragile noise pierced the air, Nightmare's grip on Stretch's leg tightening with renewed desperation.

 _Fuck, he was cute._ It never took much to rile him up: a few gentle kisses, a few words of endearment, and Nightmare was putty in Stretch's hands. Stretch set his cup down on the floor next to him, then opened his arms in quiet invitation. Nightmare, without hesitation, uncurled from around Stretch's leg to crawl fully into his lap, settling between his splayed legs and tucking himself close against Stretch's chest.

Stretch curled his arms around Nightmare, hooking under his wings and coming up again to tease at the back of him. He loved feeling his softness, the stickiness hidden under the tufts on his scapulae reminding him of sugar spilled onto a damp counter. Stretch made soft little circles there, tangling his phalanges in those rosey soft petals, uncaring of the mess his hands would come away with.

Nightmare whimpered, wings fluffing as he tried to spread them out. One of Nightmare's hands fisted into Stretch's hoodie, while Stretched watched the other creep down to cup where his pubic symphysis would be between his legs. The many tendrils shifted, coiling and uncoiling and recoiling until they found the most comfortable arrangement for them to cling to Stretch in their new positions. Nightmare took slow, deep, shaky breaths, skull tilted to press his bad socket into Stretch's sternum, good socket half closed and unfocused as he diverted all attention to feeling held.

Stretch never felt more important or accomplished than when Nightmare did that, listened with his whole body to the beat of Stretch's soul and felt so safe he let himself be vulnerable again.

"you're being real cute," Stretch murmured, scritching gently at Nightmare's exposed spines.

" _What part of 'silence' do you not understand?!_ " Nightmare tried to hiss, the words devolving into a whine.

"the part where you really mean it," Stretch countered. "because 'silence' isn't your safeword."

The fact the scourge of the multiverse had such an adorable pouty face was criminal, an injustice to the world that did not have the chance to appreciate him. Stretch tilted his chin up to give him a gentle kiss, inviting him for a deeper one. Nightmare moaned softly, his main tongue curling out to meet Stretch's, two more branching out to follow. Stretch's boyfriend had butterfinger kisses, peanuts and chocolate and sweetest sugar. Really, how Nightmare managed to hide his sweetness for so many years, Stretch would never know.

It was probably selfish of him to be grateful he got him first. Very selfish. But tough pecan cookies.

He pulled out of that kiss. "hey. can i special order some pecan and apple cookie kisses?"

Nightmare glared up at Stretch with the most deadpan straight-man face. " _Idiot._ " He arched up for another kiss. Sure enough, now it was pecan cookies with a hint of cider, sweet and savory.

Custom kisses and sweet music? Soft wind chimes and tasty treats? Stretch pulled him closer, viscerally pleased and blessed and happy.

Stretch thought that was worthy of some sort of reward. He reached over to his cup, using his long stupid fingers to steal an icecube. Still enjoying the taste of his very talented boyfriend, Stretch brought the ice to graze delicately over the curves of his cervical vertebrae. Nightmare gasped against his mouth, eyelight swelling brighter with his surprise.

Cute.

Too cute.

Stretch pulled back, showing off the ice. "this ok?"

Nightmare was breathing heavier than the kiss could have accounted for, squirming restlessly. " _It is... acceptable..._ "

Stretch brought the ice up to Nightmare's cheek. The little bastard leaned into it, turning his head to lick at the melted water dripping down his thumb. Stretch shivered, unable to bring himself to look away from Nightmare's dazed expression as he brought the ice lower, gently grazing it down his neck and over the exposed bit of his clavicle. Nightmare tensed, quivering, his wings puffing out more as if to ward off the chill. The scent of apples intensified with his blush, sweetening the air.

"you didn't tell me you liked this," Stretch mumbled, tracing little patterns with the ice, leaving a damp trail in his wake that glimmered in the light.

Nightmare shifted his jaw as if to respond, but he made no sound that could be interpreted as words, merely a series of shifting tones that begged for attention. Stretch brought the ice back up to Nightmare's teeth, who took it with his slender tongue. Encouraged, Stretch reached for a second icecube, this time bringing it around and behind Night's back. He started by teasing at the exposed spines of his vertebrae. Nightmare never quite stopped squirming, but he stiffened up, gasping. Stretch swore he could hear a faint squelching sound.

Finally, Nightmare found his words. " _I was.... not aware of the intensity..._ " He admitted, whimpering as he finally fell back into Stretch's chest. Stretch cradled him with one arm, that hand still lost in the soft, sticky embrace of his scapular petals. Nightmare panted as he fought to remain composed, his expression nearly tortured from the degree of arousal he was trying and failing to hide.

Even still, nobody else could ever look so regal, so resplendent, while rutting into their own hand and dripping in literal sugar.

Stretch dragged the little icecube up and along the ridge of one of Nightmare's wings. Nightmare made the tiniest mewl, flinching and yet pressing back into his hands. Stretch could feel his own grin, his own flush, taking over his face.

" _Honey-! Honey, I-!!_ " Nightmare gasped. " _I- help-!!_ "

Stretch knew that the man in his arms was physically unable to lie. He also knew what overstimulation felt like. "you can do it, i believe in ya."

Tears, the same cotton candy pink as everything else, slid down Nightmare's face. " _I-!!_ "

Stretch popped the now sugar coated icecube into his mouth, groaning softly at the sweetness. He brought his hand down between Nightmare's legs, feeling with his middle finger until he found Nightmare's clit through his clothes. The fabric was soaked through, warm and stretched from the friction his hand had caused. "lemme take over?"

Nightmare brought his hand up to join the other clinging to Stretch's hoodie. He ducked his head, grinding into Stretch's hand, trusting him yet desperate. " _If you are too persistent, I will surely..._ "

Stretch snickered, kissing at Nightmare's skull. "go ahead, it's fine."

" _It is not fine, it is- is- disgusting!_ " Nightmare denounced, all the while rolling his hips into Stretch's eager fingers.

"it's just syrup," Stretch deflected. "and it's because we're all happy, because _i'm_ happy being here with you." He started curling his fingers, coaxing what little sparks of pleasure he could from Nightmare's clit. At the same time, he started making little circles in his wings, preening them with his sugar sticky fingers.

Nightmare trembled in his arms, voice carried in helpless bursts on his breath. It rose in pitch as the seconds passed, until, finally, his body went rigid, and a great gush of damp soaked over Stretch's hand. He whined, hiding his face in Stretch's chest as he sagged, still gushing and trembling with the aftershocks.

Stretch pulled his hand away, leaning back into the wall with a happy sigh. He wiggled his toes in his new stockings, reaching into his pants with his soiled digits to rub his neglected shaft.

" _Do not think... to deny me,_ " Nightmare wheezed as his tendrils became suddenly, viciously animate. One coiled around Stretch's arm, pulling it away from his pants and out of reach of his aching groin. Another rushed to take hold of Stretch's dick for itself, wrapping tightly and giving it a squeeze and a pump that took his breath away.

" _Y-you're mine..._ "

Stretch ragdolled, more than happy to leave himself in Nightmare's capable hands. And tentacles.

Especially the tentacles.


	13. Day 12: Lust and Love 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Feet | Shotgunning | Dacryphilia  
>  **Kinks:** Teasing; Overstimulation; Orgasm Denial; Biting; Marking; Scars; Dirty Talk  
>  **Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; weed  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.8k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIP AT LAST~  
> and a side of lust we dont see very often~

Dance bristled at a couple of humans that he and Red passed on their walk home, a snarl caught in the grit of his teeth. Red only gave them a passing glance, but Dance was more sensitive than him, he knew that when they looked his way, they were thinking about things they had no god damn business thinking about regarding _his boyfriend_. Dance hated it. Everywhere they went, people stared at Red and got all slimy in the feelings department: it made Dance worry that someone was going to try and take Red away!

"chill," Red murmured, arm going back around Dance's shoulders and hooking him closer. "i gotcha, remember? ain't gonna let no one get'cha."

Dance wasn't exactly worried about himself at the moment. He reached up to hold Red's hand where it dangled over his shoulder, pushing the back of his hand into Red's palm and hooking their fingers together in a messy tangle. Red immediately spiked with a profound affection. "moron..." Damn, was he fond of the guy. If anyone tried to mess with Red, Dance was going to get ungentlemanly (by which he meant his feet would come in contact with their face not-so-gently). "let's go home."

Red squeezed gently at Dance's fingers, happily guiding them both around the corner and shortcutting them home.

The livingroom was so thick with smoke that, at first, Dance thought there was a fire. He tightened his grip on Red, before calling out "lust!" in a sudden panic.

"i'm here~" Lust's voice came from the bedroom, low and slurred like he was drunk. Lust _felt_ drunk, his emotions soft and hazy and calm, colored by a deep, all encompassing affection that seemed to have broken out of its usual cage and filled the whole apartment like smoke.

Red, completely unconcerned, went to put the groceries away. Dance, still thrumming with anxiety, darted into the bedroom.

Lust was sprawled out on the bed, naked save for his collar, a still-smoking blunt between his knuckles as he stared up at the ceiling. "lust?" Dance faltered. That explained the smoke, at least, although Dance had had no idea that Lust did weed.

Lust rolled on his side, smiling wide and soft at Dance, the expression dangerously close to the one he showed during afterglow. "hey, baby~ welcome home~" He opened his arms wide, coaxing, beckoning. There was so much open want and fondness that Dance didn't need his empathy to feel it crash over him in a wave, pulling him in like a riptide.

Dance kicked off his shoes, climbing on the bed to snuggle into Lust's arms. Lust purred, low and tremulous. His bones were afire, hot and slick with slime, a faint spark in his joints. He smelled thickly of weed, a bitter tang to his usual sweetness. Dance tucked himself against Lust's neck, kissing him on and under the collar in an effort to soothe his sore bones.

Lust moaned, shameless and delighted, turning his head to make the attention easier.

"bad day?" Red asked from the doorway. 

"i'm okay~" Lust hummed, holding up his smoking blunt. "blooky made a delivery~ he's such a good friend~ i'd fuck him in a heartbeat if he found a body."

"lust!" Dance was only a fraction as appalled as he sounded.

"rail him," Lust assured.

"you're high."

"you're sexy. i love you. lemme smash."

"i love you too, but you're still-" Dance started, only for Lust to cut him off.

"you _love me_?!?!" Lust gasped, his eyelights going bigger, watery and shifting with emotion Dance would have thought were exaggerated if not for the burst of genuine love, surprise, delight, and awe that exploded out of him like paint from a balloon.

"we're dating, you dork," Dance reminded him, cupping his cheek. He stole a kiss, quick and chaste, just to make a point. Lust moaned into him, deepening that kiss and rolling on top of Dance.

Red, in the doorway still, was wrestling with all the emotions. All of them. Dance might have tried helping him if Lust hadn't immediately started ripping his clothes off like they were tissue paper and his bones were a gift. Dance yelped as his pants, his hoodie, his shirt, all of them were torn apart at the seams as Lust viciously stripped him and proceeded to kiss and lick him all over.

"lust-!!" Dance wheezed, gripping his intoxicated boyfriend's shoulders. "lust-!!" He tried to say more, but Lust dug his tongue into Dance's scar, working his unfiltered and uninhibited emotions into the most raw, sensitive part of Dance's body. Dance arched his back involuntarily, overcome by the rising tide of love, of Lust's intense desire to make him feel _good_.

"say my name like that more," Lust growled, low, deep, commanding in ways he never allowed himself to talk. "i'm gonna- i'm gonna make you feel so good, baby. i'm gonna... you sound so good. sing for me more~"

Dance was starting to feel dizzy. "lust, are ya sure you feel up t-" Dance lost his train of thought, as well as control of his voice, when Lust bit into his shoulder. The slice of Lust's fangs burying themselves into his bone burned with _love_ , with _possessiveness_ , with a deep heat that called to the heat in Dance's soul and made him go limp.

Dance was seeing spots when Lust pulled back. Red was closer, but Dance knew that from feeling, not sight. "color check?" Red asked, sounding a tad out of breath himself.

"orange~" Lust assured.

Dance needed a moment. He needed to remember how to think. How to breathe. A gentle hand stroked over his skull, tips like claws scratching lightly, delicately, as they followed the curve of his cranium. It felt soothing, cool to the touch against his rapidly warming body. Above him, Red broke out into a flustered mess of soft feelings, and he heard Lust's muffled moans and purrs.

Red was a tempting distraction. It was sweet of him to take that bullet for Dance while he got his bearings, while he decided what he wanted.

"orange," Dance gasped out, finally. Thinking was getting harder. The air was starting to smell more sweet than bitter. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

The bed dipped near Dance's feet. Before he could blink the spots from his vision, he felt Lust bite him again, filling him once more with his pervasive intent to _cherish_ and _claim_ like a burning sedative.

Just this once, he'd let Lust take control, take him.

* * *

The tiny part of Lust that still had functioning shame was quietly mourning the loss of Dance's hoodie. The rest of him, emboldened by his medicinal pick-me-up and the noises his boyfriends were making, decided that was a problem for future-Lust that could be solved with some thread and a clever boyfriend with a needle.

Right now, Dance was naked under him, flushed a pretty azure, like a sapphire sitting on a backlight, his expression overwhelmed and distant and adorable. He looked damn good, his bones marred by Lust's teeth marks and his tragic scar painted over in Lust's saliva. The sight fed something dangerous and feral in Lust, fueling the pleased little growl that hadn't really stopped since Dance crawled willingly into his arms.

Behind him, Red sat at Dance's feet, still disappointingly clothed. His face was flushed that adorable pink, eyelight somewhat hazed over, and that deep, hot spark in Lust was whispering about how easy, how right, it would be to lay Red low and fuck him up until he too was a mess. How delightful it would be, to bite until Lust's and Dance's teeth marks were the only scars you could discern in Red's bones, their name the only thing he could say.

But no, not now: today was the day Dance was treated right. Red would get his later.

Lust licked his teeth, tasting a faint hint of marrow. He might have bitten too hard that time. Lust made a mental note to pay special attention during aftercare before taking another drag of his blunt. He held the smoke in his ribs as he leaned down, cupping Dance's face and thumbing at his teeth before kissing him deeply. He waited for Dance to reciprocate before exhaling into his mouth, shivering as Dance took his breath along with everything else Lust gave so freely.

Dance flushed deeper, his eyelights fuzzing more at the edges. Lust felt a little more of his tension ease. When Lust pulled back, Dance's face nuzzled into his palm, blindly seeking affection Lust was more than happy to give.

Lust leaned onto his elbow beside Dance, stretched out parallel to him so he could hold his blunt and still keep close. He reached down to fondle Dance's pubis, only to find that Dance had already summoned his dick for Lust to play with. Lust purred, stroking the stiff shaft, gently at first, then slowly getting faster. He leaned in to nibble on Dance's neck, forcing himself to be gentler with his fangs. "say my name, baby. tell me, who's making you feel this good?"

"l-lusht," Dance mumbled, his words already slurring together. Whether that was from the weed or the pleasure, Lust couldn't know. He hoped it was both. It didn't matter in the end, because Dance sounded _amazing_ , all tongue-tied and breathless, his voice taking on that musical aspect that drove Lust to distraction.

"that's right," Lust cooed, thumbing at Dance's tip. Dance arched his back again, thrusting into his hand. He was starting to really sweat, his legs twitching in the peripheral of Lust's vision. Lust took another drag, leaning in to kiss Dance again and share it with him. He felt Dance's dick twitch mid-kiss, a delightful surprise.

Lust pulled back and gave Dance another little nibble before checking on Red. Red was sitting cross-legged at their feet, flushed an even deeper pink as he clung to his own ankles.

"sweetheart, why not give dance a little foot rub? i'm sure he's had a long day of walking~"

Red jolted, as if startled, his head snapping to look at Lust. Lust gave him a little wink, letting his eyelights rove up and down Red's body. He was going to destroy him later; absolutely ravage. It was the highest cruelty that Lust could only enjoy one delicious meal of a boyfriend at a time.

Maybe he could ask to be spitroasted later.

Red scooted closer until he could put Dance's feet in his lap. He hesitated, swallowing audibly before carefully lifting up one of Dance's feet and starting to stroke along the lines of his metatarsals. Dance responded immediately, groaning long and low, his dick throbbing hot in Lust's hand.

Who knew Lust's baby was so kinky~

Lust leaned in close again, dragging his fangs over Dance's clavicle. "there you go, dance, baby, relax~ love you so much, gonna make you feel so good, gonna- gonna love you so good you can't think straight. gonna love you so gay, baby~" Lust kept stroking Dance off, slow and steady, interspercing the pattern with pauses to tease his tip, spreading the flow of pre to slicken the friction.

Dance clutched at the comforter under them, turning his head to the side and giving Lust better access to his neck. Lust took the invitation, kissing and nibbling on and around his collar, delighting in the little jingle noise it made. "love you so much. love you. love you so much baby. gonna love you forever. all of you. every inch. you smell so good. dance. dance, baby. baby. i love you~"

Lust couldn't seem to make himself shut up without stuffing his mouth full of something, like Dance's kisses or Dance's shoulder. He hummed happily as he nibbled down to start licking at Dance's scar. He was so fucking handsome, and strong, and tasty. Lust loved him so much.

Dance squirmed, bucking into Lust's hand. He slurred Lust's name again, stuttering, He slurred _Red's_ name, and Lust tore his eyes away from Dance's handsome face long enough to take in Red's also-very-handsome face. Red was his namesake from the tips of his sockets to the tips of his teeth. He was still worshifully petting Dance's feet, claws scritching between the bones.

Red was so fucking cute. Lust was going to eat him alive. Gonna bite him, mark him up, tug that collar until he chokes on Lust's name and cums in silver while Lust fills him up and-

And Lust had to remember what his focus was, right now. Dance first. Then Red. Focus. Focus.

But later. Lust purred at the thought of 'later'.

Lust turned back to Dance, purring still at the thought of that very moment, Dance's dick in his hand, twitching and throbbing with heat, the magic flowing faster and faster. Lust gripped the blunt between his teeth as he sat up, straddling Dance and grinding his newly formed slit over his shaft. Lust took one last drag, exhaling with a sigh before turning around and kissing Red. Red gasped, before letting Lust have his filthy way with his mouth, pliant and accomodating as always, the darling, the sweetheart, Lust loved him so much, _he was gonna fuck his soul out his mouth and then back in again through his ass-_

Patience. One at a time. They deserved his full attention.

Lust should be ashamed of himself for thinking such depraved thoughts about the ones he loved. He just couldn't bring himself to. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, he'll feel better.

Lust offered the blunt to replace his tongue between Red's teeth. Red took it, breathing deep before gripping it firmly so Lust could turn back to Dance.

Dance was gripping Lust's hips now, trying to urge him to move faster. Lust took Dance's wrists, pinning them over his head and kissing him once more. "shhh, baby, baby, love you~ i love you~ so much~ gonna make you crazy, gonna- gonna make you feel so good~"

"l-lust-!!"

"scream louder for me, gorgeous~" Lust punctuated that with a harder, slower grind.

"lust!!!"

"yeah, baby?" Lust couldn't look away now. Dance was so beautiful, so very beautiful, and handsome, and delicious, covered in his teeth marks and glowing in sapphire and gold. How did Lust get so lucky? What did he do to deserve him? "love you so much. so much. gonna fuck you up until you see stars~ gonna make you scream~"

"lust-!!!"

Lust groaned, biting down on Dance's shoulder again.

"more-!!"

Lust smiled around his bite, licking the new mark before kissing Dance's jaw. Dance was starting to tear up, his tears like blue diamonds clinging to his sockets before sliding down his zygomatic. The damp trail accented Dance's blush beautifully. Everything about Dance was a work of art, was precious and perfect. It just made Lust's soul ache, how amazing he was, how much Lust wanted to fuck him into the mattress and make him cry and scream and squirm until he was a mess.

"you want more, dance, baby?" Lust whispered, feeling his own elated purrs tremble in his ribs. "ok. gonna give you more. gonna give you more all night long~" He shifted his hips, moving until he could slide Dance inside him, slow, careful, easing down until he'd swallowed Dance to the hilt. He clenched around Dance, loving how Dance bucked up into him, trying to get more friction, more depth, more of Lust in any way possible.

The euphoria, the decadence: Lust clenched again, moaning at the heat that Dance leaked into him, his love so close to orgasm his pre flowed like a leaky faucet. "love you~ love you so much~" Lust leaned down to kiss him, to kiss Dance and taste how much pleasure Lust was giving him.

Then Lust started to gyrate his hips, riding Dance so deep into the mattress his sacrum tried to replace the springs. Dance _screamed_ into Lust's mouth, wrists thrashing in his hands, bucking wildly. It wasn't long before Lust felt his love come inside him, filling him, proof that Lust was doing everything right to please his precious, his beloved.

Lust broke the kiss, licking up Dance's overstimulated tears. "love you, baby~ gonna love you all night~ all night~ never gonna stop~ never never~ love you so much~" Lust continued thrusting, clenching, grinding, rocking on Dance's dick like his life depended on it. He had no plans to stop or slow, no plans to give Dance even a moment's reprieve.

Dance cried out louder, incoherent, shredded bastardizations of words and names. Lust heard 'yes,' and 'please,' a few times, but some of it was hard to make out. Honestly, it didn't matter so much, because it was all beautiful, his baby singing him the sweetest ballad.

Lust wanted to hear him sing all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel on Day 26


	14. Day 13: Capable Hands 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Body worship | ~~Spanking~~ | Frottage  
>  **Kinks:** Heavy Petting; Kisses; Soul Fondling; Orgasm Denial  
>  **Pairing:** FirstStarBerry (Outertale!Sans / Underswap!Sans / Undertale!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; mentions of injury; chronic illness  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.9k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a ship i'm sure we all want to see <3

Impulse inspected the frayed ends of his hoodie drawstring, trying to ignore the frustrating helplessness that always followed after another episode of weakness. His knees ached, fresh new cracks no doubt decorating his fragile patella.

Blue, ever reliable, continued to carry him back home, a smoother ride than one would ever expect. Impulse's long limbs folded up neatly like an accordion in Blue's tiny, powerful arms, carried bridal style. "THIS IS WHY I KEEP SAYING YOU SHOULD GET A WHEELCHAIR," Blue scolded again. "WHAT IF THIS HAPPENS WHEN I AM NOT AROUND?"

Impulse signed at Blue without looking at him.

"'you're always around, and i don't want a wheelchair,'" Comic translated for Blue's benefit. Blue had been taking lessons to learn more sign since he found out Impulse was mute, but he still struggled at times. "which isn't true. blue works long hours a whole lot. what's wrong with a lazy chair?"

Impulse huffed. [i just don't like it, ok? i walk fine. besides, it doesn't even happen that often anymore.]

"it happens often enough that we're gonna worry," Comic retorted, shifting closer.

Impulse knew that. He knew he was being stubborn and illogical. He knew it was a problem and he got very lucky. If this had been a few years ago, he probably would have taken the wheelchair suggestion and never looked back.

Now, however, he felt like, maybe, he had something to prove. He just did.

"IF I DID NOT KNOW ANY BETTER," Blue began slowly, smile creeping into his voice, "I WOULD SAY YOU KEEP AVOIDING THE USE OF A MOBILITY AID BECAUSE YOU LIKE BEING CARRIED AROUND BY THE MAGNIFICENT BLUE."

Impulse stiffened, grateful for his low magic capacity if only because it meant his blush couldn't be seen from space. (The fact if could be seen at all was something to be grateful for, a sign his therapy was working, but damn if being healthy had inconveniences). [no! it's not like that!] Impulse signed at Blue, knowing damn well he understood that much.

Blue's smirk quirked up, a recognition twinkling in those starry eyelights (the only stars Impulse could stand to see, never mind love). "MAYBE I WOULD BELIEVE YOU IF YOU GOT YOURSELF A WHEELCHAIR AND USED IT SOMETIME," he hummed, simpering.

[no.]

"THEN CARRY YOU I SHALL!"

Comic snickered, quiet in his support on this front. Impulse flipped him off with a language neutral gesture that only made him laugh harder. Infectious, Blue also began giggling, turning the final corner before reaching their shared home.

Comic skipped ahead to open the door for them, letting Blue carry Impulse over the threshold and settle him safely on the couch. Comic joined him, leaning back with his knees manspread and a relieved grin on his face.

Blue, a crease still marring his frontal bone with worry, knelt at Impulse's feet and began to roll up his pants. "LET ME SEE..."

Impulse didn't fuss, relaxing back into the couch. He wasn't surprised when Blue, ever gentle, ever careful, still jostled his knees and made him flinch, gasping at the unwanted pain. Blue murmured soft apologies, slowing down to avoid more jostling as he worked the fabric up over Impulse' knees. His patella were covered in spider fractures, glowing dull with what little magic his body could spare. It was far brighter than it had been, but damn if it wasn't a work in progress.

Blue tsked, rubbing his hands together to get the green magic flowing. "I KNEW IT."

"jeeze." Comic put his hand over Impulse's, thumbling sympathetically over his phalanges. Impulse soaked that intent up like a sponge, focusing on it more than the pain. Blue's hands were like ice to a burn, harsh in their assuagement until they weren't. Gradually, the pain faded to a dull ache, the cracks scabbing over with powdery blue and green magic generously donated by his boyfriend.

"THERE!" Blue hummed, pressing his teeth to the mostly healed cracks. "BETTER!"

Impulse shivered. The place was still sensitive, Blue's powerful intent and affection piercing through him and making him dizzy.

"how ya feel, j?"

Impulse slumped into Comic's side, stretching himself across the couch and nuzzling into his other boyfriend's arms.

"i'll take that as good?" Comic snickered, stroking over Impulse's skull, down his neck and over his shoulder. Impulse shivered, closing his sockets to bask in the attention.

"YOU SURE GOT COMFORTABLE FAST," Blue hummed, leaning in to deliver another devastating kiss. Impulse sucked in air sharply, reaching out to grab Blue and hold him there, close. "I WOULD LOVE TO CUDDLE WITH YOU BOTH, BUT THIS ARRANGEMENT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR THE COUCH. THE BED, HOWEVER..."

Oh. Impulse heard the longing heat in Blue's words. He smiled, sliding his hand to Blue's wrist and tugging it to his face to nuzzle. As he did, he focused himself, trembling with the effort of pulling it together, pulling himself together, as he put his physical and magical therapy into practice. When he was sure he'd done it right (and boy was he sure, immediately exhausted by the effort and continued strain on his reserves), Impulse moved Blue's hand down to tuck under his shirt, pressing it against the ecto he'd summoned around his lumbar.

Blue made a soft noise, something between a growl and a squeak. He pulled his hand back, ripping his glove off so he could press bare bone onto Impulse's summoned skin. "ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE UP FOR THERAPY?" The open want in his voice, in the sparkle of his eyelights, was answer enough for Impulse.

[yup.]

Blue tilted Impulse's chin with his other hand, holding him trapped for a kiss, slow, persistent, all consuming. Blue never did anything by halves, and that was something Impulse loved about him. "THEN YOU JUST RELAX, AND WE WILL DO THE REST!"

"hey. don't leave me out," Comic fake complained. Blue chuckled, leaning over to give him a kiss of his own over Impulse's head. Comic let out a satisfied groan, likely deepening the kiss if Blue's echoed noise was any indication.

Comic's hand slipped under the neckline of Impulse's t-shirt, scritching lazily at Impulse's tender clavicle. Impulse shivered. There was something meaningful in feeling good. There was something meaningful when it was their hands on him that made it so easy to do.

Blue's clever fingers began with light scratching, making gradually bigger and bigger circular patterns as his distal phalanges mapped out his body. Blue always seemed to find just the right place to rub in just the right way, sending tingling charges through him to echo in his soul. Impulse started trying to worm his hand down, to curl around the ecto taking shape in his pants, but Comic and Blue both caught one of his wrists, stopping him fast.

The two broke their kiss, smiling. "YOU NEED YOUR HANDS UP HERE," Blue reminded him, nuzzling his palm before letting go.

"yup. to talk and all that," Comic teased.

Impulse gave them both a look he hoped was at least in the ballpark of annoyance, but honestly he couldn't complain. This game was fun in its own way, and they had a point about him needing his hands free to talk to them.

Blue's hand hooked down to push Impulse's shirt up properly, exposing his pseudoflesh to the air. He looked at Impulse's midriff with open fondness and longing that had Impulse squirming. "YOUR MAGIC IS SO PRETTY," Blue mumbled, leaning in to kiss his tummy, nuzzling. Impulse had a love-hate relationship with him doing that (he loved it, but he hated how flustered it made him feel, how flustered _Blue_ made him feel, little Blue with his tiny hands strong enough to to crush a brick like a styrofoam cup, little Blue who could bench press the couch with Impulse sleeping on it, little Blue who was so sweet and strong and reliable but still got worked up over the things he loved): it felt wonderful.

"yup," Comic agreed, his one hand still stroking along the curve of Impulse's clavicle, fingertips pressed at the flat of his cervical vertebrae, keeping his chin tilted up and his delicate bones exposed. Comic's other hand thumbed at Impulse's cheek, tracing a pattern under his sockets, along his mandible. "can't wait till ya got enough to start blushing again."

Impulse grinned nervously. He was certain he'd be a flustered, sweaty mess if he had the magic to spare on things like that. He knew that that was the goal of their exercises, but he wasn't looking forward to being exposed as so easy to mess up. He'd grown to like being the tall silent guy.

Blue's hand crept lower, sliding between Impulse's legs. Impulse bucked into his hand, grinding his groin into Blue's fingers. Blue brought his other hand up to continue the belly rubs, pressing back gently to still Impulse's useless rutting. "YOUR MAGIC IS VERY HANDSOME, JUST LIKE YOU ARE VERY HANDSOME. AND STRONG. AND I FOR ONE ENJOY IT VERY MUCH WHEN IT IS MY TURN TO HOLD YOU."

Impulse started signing [please] rather frantically, trembling. He'd put his system into overdrive and now he just- he just wanted to be held, to be touched, to be close.

"super handsome," Comic parroted, leaning down enough to give Impulse a kiss, soft and sweet and just on the wrong side of chaste, more teasing than anything. Impulse wheezed, a silent whimper, reaching up to tug the bastard back down for a second one.

Impulse hadn't really stopped grinding into Blue's hand, working himself up into a lather. He was so very close, almost painfully close, his soul hammering so hard in his chest he was afraid it would break a rib. He brought his hand down, patting his chest in silent question.

"YES!" Damn: there was something fucking raw and validating about such open, honest eagerness about intimacy. Blue's gentle petting never changed, never wavered, but he was so clearly excited just at the offer that Impulse nearly came right there.

Impulse gave himself that deep tug, bringing his soul free.

Comic took careful hold of it, his touch penetrating with the sheer intent behind it: _love, devotion, arousal, joy, contentment,_ so much stronger, so much deeper, than Comic's calm and languid experior would ever indicate. Impulse sagged, feeling uselessly overstimulated and fantastic for it.

Blue, ever helpful, began rubbing and groping Impulse's trapped dick in earnest.

"wow, you're way more, heh, wet, than I expected." Comic thumbed at the soft white surface of Impulse's soul, spreading the pearlescent slick. Impulse felt like he was melting, drowning. He could barely hear his boyfriends' voices.

"YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL," Blue rasped. It was the only warning Impulse had before Blue's hand was also on his soul, and then-

Then Impulse really was drowning, overtaken: his world was _love, joy, protectiveness, relief, love, want, hope, love, arousal, thirst, love,_ so much _love_ it was hard to believe there was room for anything else. His eyelights guttered out, leaving him effectively blind. He felt hands on him, loving him, hands in him, loving him. His magic burned like it was molten light against his bones, inside his bones, stoked to a building inferno.

Impulse was so close, so close he-

A chokehold of denial squeezed him, Blue's gentle grip turning unyielding. The orgasm he had been so close to was denied him, as it was always denied him. He ached, signing blindly, [please, please!] He heard their voices, but he couldn't understand them, the chaos of being so overwhelmed making their words unintelligible.

What Impulse did know was that he was loved, he was in their capable hands, and they had him, safe, treasured. It was the best place in the world to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel on [Day 23](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66325777)


	15. Day 14: No Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** ~~NTR~~ | Face-sitting | Collaring  
>  **Kinks:** Orgasm Denial; Tentacles  
>  **Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dream / Reapertale!Sans  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Kidnapping; Noncon; Body Horror; Yandere  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.3k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a sequel to [the last yandere dream piece](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65399044) (will add links later i am playing among us with friends rn)

Reaper swung his scythe, taking the struggling soul that had called him to that remote place. Back alley violent deaths weren't unusual, by any means, although the nature of this one surprised him: usually they didn't stab themselves, not while smiling so happily, not leaving such a contented looking corpse.

Usually the happy ones called his brother. It was odd. It would make a wonderful story for Life (and Geno).

Reaper may have tried to puzzle it out if something hadn't hit him from behind. One moment Reaper was hovering in the air over the corpse, the next his skull was ringing. Then he felt a sharp prick to his leg, and the world went black.

When Reaper awoke next, he was on a soft bed, his robes missing and his arms bound behind his back. He tried sitting up, squirming to get a look at his situation. Doing so made it abundantly clear that his magic was acting up, bundled and manifested as sensitive nerves between his legs, dripping slick. 

"fuck," Reaper breathed, starting to feel dizzy. He was Death, he wasn't meant to be this warm, this _hot_.

" _Finally awake, Reapsy?_ " Cooed a voice Reaper never expected to hear.

Reaper squirmed, rolling to at least face his kidnapper. Unfortunately, Dream was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Reaper rolled right into his lap. Before he could move back, Dream hooked something around his throat, soft as down and stinking of apples. It took a moment for Reaper to process that he had just been collared.

" _There, the perfect touch,_ " Dream purred, tugging gently on the collar. Deep, powerful magic thrummed within, a magic as old as Death, as old as Life.

That something so primal and intrinsic to nature abused and neglected its duty filled Reaper with an integral revulsion. He tried to pull away. "Unhand me!"

He wasn't going to think about the implications that his touch did nothing to the creature before him. Except, he was absolutely thinking about it, because it made no sense. No mortal creature was beyond the reach of death.

A long, thick, golden appendage, slick with slime, shoved itself between Reaper's teeth as he spoke, muffling him. Reaper tried to spit it out, but it only wormed its way deeper. The tendril tasted like coffee. Reaper hated it, hated Dream for trying to ruin what little good was in Reaper's life.

Dream shushed him, the soothing, condescending way one shushed a rowdy animal. " _Fear not, my dear Reaper, all is well, now._ "

Reaper snarled around his mouthful. All was _not_ well! He had been kidnapped for fucks sake!

Dream chuckled. " _I will show you, then._ " His words sounded like the filthiest promise, settling wet and sticky and vile over Reaper's bones. Reaper thrashed, only to find more tendrils pin him down, spreading his legs wide to the chill air with his head in Dream's lap.

Another tentacle slithered between his legs, rubbing against his femurs as it crept closer and closer. Reaper was ashamed of the high pitched noise he made when the tip touched his clit, curling and stroking it like a well loved thing.

" _There, you see? I would never harm you, Reapsy. I love you._ "

All Reaper could think about was Geno, waiting for him, and how desperately he wished he had heard those words in his voice instead. Reaper wished the hands stroking over his ribs were his datemate's, and not- not this bastard's-!!

" _Such ferocity,_ " Dream murmured, sounding pleased. " _I wonder how long you can keep it burning? I hope for very long, for my sake._

Reaper would have hissed at him if his mouth were not full. As it was, Reaper was beginning to feel dizzy, the building heat clouding up his skull like smoke. The tendril teasing his clit became more insistent, more vigorous, dragging out of him a slow, toe curling pleasure.

Reaper felt the pleasure build, and build, and build, like a glass being filled to overflowing. It made his knees weak, his bones heavy, his magic flutter hungrily for more, for _something_.

Yet, no matter how the tendril abused his magic, stroking and rubbing at the bundle of nerves, it never seemed to be enough. It was as if every time his cup was about to fill, it got bigger, like there was a hole draining the pleasure out of him before it was enough to propel him to bliss. It left Reaper at the precipice, dangling in foggy, heated torment.

" _Isn't this nice, Reapsy?_ " Dream cooed, tugging at the collar. " _You can feel this good endlessly, you know. I have that power, to keep you like this until time itself crumbles._ "

Reaper tried to remain quiet, but a particularly strong shockwave of pleasure forced a moan out of him. The tears finally started to overflow. He never wanted to make that noise for anyone but Geno.

Dream thumbed away those tears, shushing sweetly, an overly fond smile lighting up his face. His touch burned with possessive intent, loving intent twisted by something chaotic and uncompromising. " _Do not worry, Reapsy. I know how terribly loyal you are. Your duty to your purpose is something I love about you. I will not keep you here for long..._ "

Reaper was lifted by the tendrils holding him, maneuvered over the bed. Dream lay down on it, wings spread, and Reaper was lowered again to kneel over Dream's face. Dream guided Reaper's hips down, closer, closer, until he could kiss at Reaper's weeping slit. A long tongue began lapping up his juices, teasing his pussy and making it impossible for Reaper to hold still or keep silent.

Reaper was forced to kneel there, spread open, held on the verge of release while the smiling predator supped on his unwilling pleasure. Reaper trembled, aching from how close he was.

Reaper had no idea how long he was there, dizzy, helpless, his mind full of nothing but the need to come and the distant call of lost souls. His body seized up multiple times from the overstimulation, making him arch his back and grind shamelessly into Dream's face. If his mouth were not gagged by the tentacle that still tasted of coffee, he might have started begging.

He might have tried anyway, gurgled bastardizations of pleas for mercy mixing with the salivation dripping from his parted teeth.

Then something changed: Reaper felt his pussy filled, first by one, then two, then three, then four sizable tendrils. He felt a strange sort of penetration deep inside him, a tug, a sensation akin to stickers adhering to skin, of needles. Then it faded, and Reaper was lifted away from Dream's face to be set on the bed.

The tendril that had been mercilessly abusing Reaper's clit retreated, but no sooner than it had, Reaper felt another tendril take its place. Reaper tried closing his legs now that he was free to do so, but it was no use.

When Reaper looked down, to his great horror, he saw that the tendril teasing him was coming, not from Dream, but from _inside him_. To make matters worse, he felt another tendril begin to prod and tease his asshole, working it open to slip inside and squirm.

The appendage that had been gagging Reaper eased itself out of his mouth. Reaper coughed, gasping a moment, too shocked to do more than ask, "What have you d-done to me?!"

" _Oh, Reapsy~_ " Dream trilled, licking Reaper's slick from his teeth. " _I have planted my roots in you. Now, I can make sure you feel nothing but this agonizing pleasure, forever._ " Dream leaned forward, tugging on the collar around Reaper's throat, pulling him close so that all Reaper could see was Dream's eyes, unfathomable, uncompromising, love and obsession. " _No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I am now a part of you, Reapsy. And you'll never escape my love._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3


	16. Day 15: Yours, Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Prostitution | Armpit | Massage  
>  **Kinks:** Anal; Dirty Talk  
>  **Pairing:** Rust (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans) ; also Lust!Sans/Fell!Aaron  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Jealousy; smoop  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another twin ship piece ;)

Lust straddled Aaron's lap, the other monster's long serpentine tail thick and slimy between his legs. "half up front, handsome~" Lust purred in his best customer service voice (if your customers were johns, and your service was seduction). He simpered, making himself look as small and non-threatening as possible for the man: it usually paid to play the submissive in Underfell.

Aaron took the bait, wrapping one scarred, muscular arm around Lust as he fished out the G with his other. "And a full refund if you can't satisfy my muscles," Aaron reminded him.

Lust took the money, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. As if he couldn't manage something so basic as one measly orgasm. Instead, Lust ran his hands over Aaron's bulging pecs, grinding his pelvis over his sculpted abs. If Lust had to give credit where credit was due, it was that Aaron was peak performative masculinity, the image of musculature and definition, and it was damn impressive. "that's the deal~"

Lust was going to eat him alive. The poor fool. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

A few moments later (a well placed flick of the nipples here, a deceptively gentle bite there), and Lust had Aaron on his back, a moaning, sweaty mess. Lust tucked himself into the crook of Aaron's arm, licking along the line of his armpit before nibbling on his biceps. Aaron smelled about the same in Underfell as he did back home: salt, sweat, and something musky that was just on the right side of fishy. Lust felt the way Aaron's body quivered when he paid attention to his arms, to his armpit, so he focused the attention of his tongue there, licking, kissing, ignoring the taste that did nothing for Lust as he worked Aaron into a desperate lather.

By the time Lust finally started fingering Aaron's depository pouch, Aaron was too overworked to hold out, coming all over Lust's hand. Lust loomed over him, hoping his smile wasn't as obvious about his smug victory as he felt: whatever his own feelings, this was still about making Aaron feel fulfilled, and ruining that with competitiveness put a bad taste in Lust's mouth.

Aaron lay there, panting, before finally pulling out the other half of Lust's payment. Lust pocketed that too, stroking down Aaron's long muzzle before getting up. "pleasure doing business with you~" Lust hummed, swiping up a cloth and wetting it in the nearby pool. He came back, giving Aaron a gentle wipedown, moistening his scales and tending to his armourless pseudoflesh.

"...What are you doing?" Aaron asked, still breathless after being taken for a ride.

"aftercare," Lust said simply. "its complimentary, no extra fee if that's what you're worried about."

"...What for?"

Lust didn't let his hands pause for more than a moment. He didn't like thinking about why Aaron would ever have to ask that question. He didn't want to think about the last time he heard that question asked of him. "just policy," was what Lust decided to answer him with.

"Policy, huh?" Aaron thought aloud, that wink coming back to his big brown eyes. His smirk turned predatory, the LV in him flaring up. "I think I like it. Think I'll keep you..."

Lust chuckled, finishing his patdown. "i'm spoken for," he said, tugging at his collar. "see?"

"I'll get rid of that," Aaron said with a wink that Lust immediately did not like.

Lust was just about to tell Aaron how he felt about him talking about taking his favorite accessory, when rather suddenly, and with no warning or expectation, Aaron was captured in BLUE magic and yanked out from under him. Aaron screamed, a drawn out noise of shock that was mercilessly, abruptly silenced when he hit the far wall of the cave.

Red, snarling like a rabid beast, sauntered out of the shadows. His activated eyelight was a flare of artificial fire, the crimson flames flickering with sparks of the Judge's gold. Several blasters materialized, taking aim at the Aaron who was still pinned roughly to the wall by BLUE magic.

"red!" Lust stood up, skipping over to throw himself into his boyfriend's arms. "look, i-"

"i know all about th' fuckin' ya been doin', slut," Red snarled. "th' fuck ya doin' it _here_ for?!"

Lust purred, admittedly too elated by seeing Red again: his body was ramped up by sex, soul aggitated and stimulated, and his amazing, handsome, sexy mate just came into arms reach. He could barely keep his hands off Red's waistband, snuggling close and nuzzling Red like a cat high on catnip. He might as well have been high, for all the good it did him.

Lust finally registered Red was talking to him, humming happily first at the sound of his voice alone. "hmmmmm, i heard you and edge were struggling this month... just too many expenses with all the property damage... wanted to pitch in..."

Red snarled low, the sound travelling up and down Lust's spine like the brush of heated fingertips. "fucker, th' fucks that even yer fuckin' business fer?!"

Lust heard the words, but all he really heard was 'fuck' and that was something he could get down with. Lust hooked a leg over Red's iliac crest, pressing his face into his neck. The spicy sweetness of his scent, booze and mustard mixed with the softer undertones of fresh watermelon. Lust took a deep breath of it, of him, purring louder. "yeah, fucking is definately my business, but with you, it's only my pleasure~"

Red flushed. "useless cumdrunk slutbag," he muttered.

Lust saw Aaron struggle to get up from the corner of his eye. Red doubled down on the BLUE magic, forcing his body so hard into the wall the stone began to crack.

"baby," Lust murmured. "take me home?" He licked at the collar around Red's throat, humming at the tingling buzz of magic left in the leather. It didn't taste like Red, another kind of spicy, another kind of sweet, but Lust didn't mind, not when the act flustered Red into such a pretty pink.

Red stood very still, trembling with some emotion he was probably constipated over (again). Lust rubbed at his chest, careful not to press too hard on his broken ribs. "please~"

Red snarled, letting go of Aaron's soul and gripping onto Lust's collar instead. "ever even sniff my pet again, 'n i'll mince ya int' fuckin' sushi!" He hissed at the seahorse centaur, right before yanking sweetly on Lust to drag him away. Red waited to shortcut until they were out of sight, magic sparking angrily. Soon enough Red had Lust pinned to his bed, claws digging between his ribs around his sternum, and collar tugged to the side just right so it ground against his scar.

"th' fuck ya think yer doin' here?! i told yer ass it stays th' fuck out o' my universe!"

Lust wrapped his legs around Red's hips fully, arching his body as close to his datemate's as possible. "told ya, came to help-" Lust cut off, his mind fuzzing out at the edges at the feeling of Red's teeth crunching into his shoulder.

"dun need yer fuckin' help."

"not- not about needing, baby," Lust panted. He fumbled into his pocket until he could pull out the G, offering it. "just wanna help when you're stressing out..."

Red took it, stuffing it into his own pocket. "coulda made th' cash in yer own universe. or fuckin' aftertale, fucks sake-"

"well, that was my first idea," Lust admitted, grinding his hips into Red's, "but pap then gave me a lecture about economics and the implications of interdimensional effects. i didn't understand more than three words, but those were 'don't do that', so..." He chuckled.

Red sighed. "dumbass. like i give a shit if our shitty ass economy tanks, i'll just go work topside." There was a hint of fondness somewhere in those words, but Lust didn't have the mind to inspect that further. Instead, Lust gripped Red's sweater and tugged him down roughly for a kiss.

Red tasted amazing. Like always.

Red shoved Lust back down, "jacket off, on yer fuckin belly like th' slut ya are," Red panted under his breath. His face was that lovely pink, his eyelights back to calm white pips fuzzing at the edges. Lust eagerly complied, setting his somewhat smelly clothes aside and laying facedown on Red's bed.

Nothing happened at first (Lust learned early on that Red got flustered by trust shown without hesitation, one reason he was so eager to always indulge his adorable boyfriend's whims), giving Lust a moment to enjoy the well used mattress and pillow that smelled like the man he loved. Then, Lust felt trembling, slick claws settle against his posterior ribs, stroking over the curvature in smooth, gentle strokes. Sharp claws grazed harmlessly over his periosteum, bleeding away stress as if from a painless wound scratched open. The slick left behind chilled his fevered bones like aloe on a burn.

Lust moaned, relaxing further into the bed, arms supporting the pillow he was trying not to bite.

"stupid fuckin' sushi ass pile o' unprocessed glue," Red growled. "got his sweaty ass stink all over ya..." His claws continued to stroke over Lust's bones, rubbing gentle circles and scratching soothing lines. Occasionally, he'd stop, and when his hands returned, that slick was back. "gotta beat it th' fuck out o' ya, can't believe i let yer ass in my room while ya stank so bad..."

Lust attempted to answer, but he didn't know what to say to that beyond some senseless mumbles and another moan.

Red huffed softly, a sign of a smirk stretching across his face. "yeah, ya fuckin' love this, don'cha, bitch? like my hands scratchin' th' shit out o' ya, scratchin' th' fucker's scent off like scum off a block o cheese?"

Lust might have resented being compared to moldy cheese if, one: cheese wasn't delicious, and two: Red wasn't absolutely right that he was on cloud-god-damn-nine. He purred, limp and content to simply take everything Red had to give.

"damn right ya do, bitch. yer my bitch, 'n only my sweaty mitts get t' rub ya up off th' fuckin' clock. n' yer clock don't fuckin' tick outside o' underlust, hear me, slut?"

Lust hummed. "ya know i'm open...."

"fuck yer open! i'll fuck ya open!"

"please..!"

Red pulled away another moment, and this time Lust heard the soft wet noise as he covered his hands in oil. Then Red's hand was on Lust's lumbar, pumping it slow and powerful. Lust keened, wiggling his hips as he summoned his ass for Red to enjoy. Red continued to stroke Lust's spine, but moved one hand to work him open, careful of his claw on Lust's tender pseudoflesh.

Red was always gentle with him, gentle and attentive in ways nobody else seemed to notice.

Lust loved the man stupid.

It wasn't long before Lust was stretched open, and Red started to fuck him how he deserved to be fucked, rough and fast and deep. Lust cried out Red's name, clawing at the mattress, delighting in the heat and the friction and the sense of fullness, the sense of secondary release with every thrust. Still, Red continued to pump his spine, teasing the tiny spaces that blunter fingers couldn't reach. Lust heard the rusty squeak of the old mattress, the scrape of bone on bone, and Red's heavy panting.

It was all Lust could ever want, his soul hammering like some foolish teenager holding hands with his first crush. He was inescapably devout to this gritty son of a bitch, and every second they were so close was a second of bliss for Lust.

He came, bursts of starlight clouding his vision as pleasure ruined his ability to think.

Red loomed over him, a comforting protective pressure. His hands resume their task, scratching and rubbing at Lust, wearing away his tension and stress. Lust sagged, feeling as boneless as a skeleton could feel.

"mine," Red hissed under his breath. "yer fuckin' mine."

"yours," Lust agreed, wondering if his voice projected enough past his teeth. He felt heady, cum drunk, reveling in his greatest decadence. "always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the floor is loving resonance!rust
> 
> **bAM-**


	17. Day 16: A Shopping Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Fucking machine | ~~Feederism~~ | Intercrural sex  
>  **Kinks:** Voyeurism; Exhibitionism; Empathic Bonds; Soul Play; Collars; Blindfolds; Sounding; Teasing; Orgasm Control; Orgasm Denial  
>  **Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Cross (XTale!Sans) / Killer (Sans!OC)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
>  **Length in Words:** ~3.7k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ends somewhat abruptly but its still another personal favorite~

"rock-"

"paper-"

"-scissors!!"

An innocent, maniacal fit of giggles echoed down the hall. Cross rounded the corner to see an odd sight. Kink was sitting on a stool against the wall, hugging himself to keep from shaking apart in silent wheezing as Hiphop and Killer sat facing each other at his feet.

"again!" An irritated Hiphop demanded, shaking his fist.

"rock.. paper.." Killer started, bouncing his fist in the space between them. Hiphop picked up the rhythm.

"scissors!" They both shouted at the same time. Each skeletal fist turned into a sideway peace sign, the gesture for scissors. They both made noises of frustration, which Cross almost couldn't hear under Kink's renewed laughter.

"what are you guys doing?" Cross asked.

Kink wiped moisture from his sockets. "i'm taking these two to a new universe to go shopping, but i can't stay to chaperone, so they have to blend in themselves." He snickered. "it's a lust-ish 'verse, and the customs are very... _kinky,_ so one of them has to go for a walk~"

"uh..." Cross looked back at the two, who were again facing off. "a walk?"

Kink held up a leash, a collar, and a blindfold. "this is the standard uniform~ this, and _only_ this~" He sounded so deeply, viscerally pleased, grin spread wider with each word.

Cross felt his face heat up. "what kind of-"

"gift for falsi," Hiphop said. "gonna buy a sex machine."

"best place in the multiverse to buy sex toys of all kinds," Kink assured. "if you can make them think you belong~ if they think you aren't a part of their culture, they'll up price you like crazy if they sell to you at all."

"it can't be that hard to- _hah_!" Killer wooped, wiggling the paper gesture he just made and covering it over the rock gesture Hiphop was glaring at. " _i win!_ "

"damn it..!" Hiphop pouted, crossing his arms. He sighed, sticking his tongue out at Killer, who continued wiggling back and forth excitedly.

"so... so you're gonna lead Hiphop around like that..?" Cross asked, feeling the heat in his cheeks multiply.

"what? no." Killer got up, taking the collar out of Kink's hands. " _i_ won, so _i_ get to wear them." His exposed soul pulsed brightly, more white than red, firm in its proper shape as he admired the leather accessory. "and scrawny here has to keep me safe."

Cross stuffed his hands in his pockets. He couldn't let Hiphop and Killer go to a new, unknown place all by themselves, especially if Killer was going to be compromised. Surely, the responsible thing to do would be to tag along and guard them.

And if he happened to see something that looked like it would make a nice gift... well... sometimes luck was on his side.

* * *

Hiphop took deliberate, deep, slow breaths as he forced one foot in front of the other, clutching the end of Killer's leash in a death grip. Killer was trailing behind him, wrists tied behind his back as he followed along blindly. The guy made quite the sight, wearing nothing but his jacket, the collar, the blindfold, and a sounding rod that occasionally vibrated at odd intervals. Seeing Killer's chest absent of his exposed SOUL was an odd experience, but what made it worse was where they had decided to hide it: in Hiphop's ribs.

Hiphop shivered as another wave of Killer's arousal and trust hit him at his core. That close to his own SOUL, Hiphop would know first if anything started to go south with Killer's mental state, and hidden under his hoodie, the SOUL would be kept from prying eyes who might misinterpret the sight of it in this context (which neither Killer nor Hiphop had any desire for; the SOUL required special boyfriend privileges to play with, thank you very much) while still letting KIller have fun. Hiphop, meanwhile, had to wrestle with the kinkiest emotional feedback of his little empathic life, struggling at times to keep his knees from buckling. He knew his face was flushed, the heat of it unmistakable.

On the bright side, they were definitely blending in: the three of them didn't look out of place at all in the crowd of equally exhibitionistic (and voyeuristic) shoppers.

"did-" Cross started, obviously trying to find a place to keep his eyes that wouldn't give him a view of someone in a compromising situation (no easy feat in this universe -- really, when he said he was coming, Hiphop and Killer should have let him be the pet in their play, but heaven forbid Cross be honest about his kinks, the prude-) "-did kink say which store had the thing you wanted?"

"just that it was somewhere in this mall," Hiphop admitted as they hit a four-way intersection. He looked around at the signs, tugging the leash gently in the direction it said 'toys' so Killer had an idea of where they were going next. The responding pulse of (literally) blind trust made Hiphop's magic burn, wrenching a rather embarrassing squeak out of him. Killer must have heard it, from the smirk on his dumb cute face and the pulse of amusement that quickly followed. This had to be where the cats got their asshole-ery from.

"so... we're just... wandering around? in a place like this?" Cross asked again.

"you're the one who decided to tag along," Hiphop reminded him, taking a small step as he tugged gently at the leash again. Killer followed, his dick bobbing back and forth with every step. _He was fucking distracting:_ how the fuck was Hiphop supposed to read signs, navigate a new store, and watch out for conveniently shaped furniture while he was being such a fucking tease?!

This is why Hiphop wanted to wear the collar. Damn it.

Killer snickered. "woof."

"oh, my god, don't bark you dork." Cross looked at the floor finally, watching Hiphop's feet for clues, most likely.

"meow. meow." Killer was definitely having fun. "if you guys get lost, look for a map. they have those right?"

"i haven't seen any yet," Hiphop said, fighting both a moan and a laugh. Fucker. He made a wide circle around the corner, following the flow of foot traffic to avoid letting Killer bump into anyone. He was oddly glad that Killer was the one in the blindfold as they passed a knife shop, clearly dedicated to cutting-play that Kills didn't need so suddenly exposed to.

Whatever feedback Killer got, he returned with a grateful fondness that almost made Hiphop lose his footing. _Fuck._ He was definitely slick now, sweat building up and sliding down his bones, soaking his clothes.

Cross stared a few seconds too long at the knife shop.

Hiphop sighed. "we'll sit out here if you wanna go in and browse."

Cross hesitated. "i- uh- no i cannot abandon my duty of protecting- i mean watching- i mean supervising you two."

"uh-huh." Hiphop rolled his eyelights.

"let's just go in, let him look, and keep going," Killer said. "a few minutes isn't gonna hurt anything."

Hiphop hesitated only as long as it took for another wave of Killer's trust to wreck him. "okay..!" He tugged at the leash again, changing directions for Killer as Cross took the lead into the shop.

The blade shop was actually rather nice, with a few couches along the wall that Hiphop gestured to. "we'll sit over there while you look."

"fine," Cross agreed, beginning to peruse the many bladed implements with interest. The scissors drew his attention, their proximity spreading the blush across his face. Hiphop had to admit it was cute, the open interest turning to something softer in his eyelights.

Hiphop guided Killer to a soft cushion, sitting him down so that Hiphop could sit in his lap, tucking Killer's exposed dick between his legs. He summoned his own thighs, filling out his pants with a softness that tipped Killer off to his intentions just a little too late. Hiphop squeezed Killer's dick between his thighs, shifting them to provide a steady, if unsatisfying friction that drew a whimper out of his boyfriend.

"if you weren't such a damn tease, maybe i wouldn't be mean to you," Hiphop breathed, tucking his face in Killer's neck, nuzzling the collar.

Killer bucked his hips weakly, breathing faster, sending pulse after pulse of arousal and amusement. "it's not my fault you're the kinky fucker getting off to having my soul in your chest," he countered.

"pot meet kettle, you leaky faucet." Hiphop proved his point by gripping the tip of the sounding rod and spinning it a little, watching as a few beads of escaped pre slid down. "even stuffed up you're making a mess."

"bet you're wetter than i am."

"bet you'd love to find out."

Killer turned his head, stealing an illegal kiss from Hiphop. It wasn't fair. Fucker. Hiphop moaned, kissing him back and starting to hump and grind into his dick in earnest. Between the friction and the unfair assault from Killer's SOUL, Hiphop was so worked up it was driving him mad! He was so close-

"uh-"

Hiphop broke the kiss, whipping back to see a very brightly blushing Cross, clutching a little nondescript bag. He was staring with big, hazy eyelights. Hiphop sighed, climbing out of Killer's lap and helping him back up to his feet. Killer was a tomato, flushed, sweaty, drooling, his SOUL quaking and fluttering so hard in Hiphop's ribs he worried it would break something.

"you done? great! let's go-!!" Hiphop said quickly, leading Killer back out of the shop. Killer whined, stumbling a bit on shaky legs. Hiphop slowed down once they were out of the doorway, checking on his boyfriend and making sure he was really okay and not just so hyped up on slime feelings he couldn't tell the difference. Killer was trembling a bit, gyrating his hips in the air, as if the air friction alone would be enough to get him off, but Hiphop couldn't find anything wrong other than a little sexual frustration. He kissed and stroked over Killer's shoulders, giving them both a moment to calm down.

Cross politely gave them space, more interested in the tiles on the floor until they started walking again.

Hiphop was starting to lose his focus. All he could really think about as he trudged through the mall was how flustered Killer and Cross were, how flustered he himself was, how his bones were starting to burn and his SOUL was starting to quiver. Hiphop was really starting to feel the heat, to feel his magic boil as he walked, as if he were the one stripped and exposed, being led along, trusting and trusted all at once.

Hiphop would have missed the sign entirely if Cross hadn't nudged him to get his attention.

* * *

Cross clutched his little shopping bag close, shifting to keep stride with Hiphop and Killer a little closer. He was all too aware of the eyes that followed them wherever they walked, of how the other patrons and local inhabitants ogled both of his companions. Cross couldn't quite blame them, given how both of his charges were a blatant mess: Killer was all but completely naked, his clearly engorged dick bobbing with every step, face flushed under the blindfold that was starting to dampen with trapped tears. Hiphop may have been more modest, but he was no less a sight for it, face alight, saliva dripping from his parted teeth, stumbling forward with a distant, anguished expression. The damp patch between his legs was just as much of a giveaway.

Cross was glad he hadn't left the two of them alone. Only stars knew what kind of people would take advantage of them given half the chance. Besides which, Hiphop was so dazed, he didn't even notice the big sign that said 'Deus Ex Fuckina' (a name that knocked a laugh out of Cross despite himself).

Cross gave Hiphop a gentle nudge on the arm. "hey. think we found it."

Hiphop shook his head, looking around until he too saw the store. He snorted, chuckling tiredly. "good a place to start as any."

"w-whats so funny..?" Killer asked, voice shredded and breathless.

"the sign says, 'deus ex fuckina'," Cross explained. Killer snickered until the tug from Hiphop cut the sound off, replacing it with a groan.

Hiphop led the way inside. Cross held the door open for them.

A fire elemental with swirly glasses greeted them, hands clasped in front of him. "Welcome. How can I help you fine gentlemen today~?"

"we-" Hiphop took a deep, slow breath, fighting whatever it was that kept ruining his composure. "we're looking for a f- a fuck machine? it's supposed to be a gift for our boyfriend..."

"A gift!" The elemental perked up. "Then I won't bother you with our standard models, oh no. Come, let us go see our _special_ models." He beckoned them to follow him into the back. Cross made himself go first this time, just in case.

"Skeletons are so rare nowadays," the shopkeeper continued, striding confidently past a series of doors. "Such a shame, really; they were such versatile companions. Your boyfriend must be a lucky man to have three such bedmates, and so thoughtful too!"

Cross felt his whole body heat up at the idea of _him_ and _Falsi_ \- no, no surely not! The man was a nutjob! So what if he was cute... and funny... and smart... and tall... and smart... and clever with his hands... very clever... and he laughed nice... and his eyes... like they were so unfathomably deep... knowing... oh, fuck, the knowing...

Cross had to stop thinking about it.

"They don't make skeleton gear much nowadays, that sort of thing has to be custom ordered from most shops, but I am a man of taste," the shopkeep bragged, "so of course I have a little something for such a special occasion." He opened a door near the end of the hall, reaching in to flip on a light. The spotlight illuminated a sort-of chair, part padding and part metal, with a series of spindly arms sprouting up and curling downwards, all with a number of assorted attachments, from brushes to blades. Something about it gave Cross a sense of foreboding.

"I call this the Flosser," the shopkeep admitted. "It is fully adjustable, with a number of attachments and preprogrammed behaviors, the signature of which is its cleaning program. If you like..." He smiled sweetly, the flames on his head blueshifting in a thoughtful blush. "I would not begrudge you a test run? I am very confident in the quality of my product. I'm sure one try will have you hooked."

Hiphop licked his teeth, eyeing the machine with a shiver. "...well, you heard the man. go sit down, cross."

Cross was halfway to the little seat before he realized what he was doing. "wait, why me??"

"because both me and killer are fragile. you're here to protect us, remember?" Hiphop reasoned. "or are you saying you would rather risk it on us?"

Cross hesitated. He... he really didn't like the idea of Hiphop or Killer getting in an untested thing like that. Hiphop was right, Cross was the logical choice. He took a deep breath, sitting down on the little cushion in the center of the machine.

"It works best when nude," the shopkeeper suggested, stepping back after handing Hiphop what appeared to be a key.

Cross flushed, but he started stripping, folding his clothes and setting them aside. Hiphop moved them and Cross's shopping bag both to a chair by the wall, leaving Cross bare and trembling in the chill in the machine. "now what?" Cross asked.

Hiphop removed Killer's blindfold, kissing him chastely before approaching Cross. "well, let’s uh..." he looked the thing over, smiling sharper, "...adjust it to your measurements." He pushed Cross back, making Cross lay with his spine flush to a padded support. Hiphop might not look it, but he was clever with machines. Cross was reminded of that as Hiphop deftly arranged Cross to fit in the stirrups, strapping him in as if he had used the foreign thing a hundred times. Soon Cross was spread open with his arms over his head and his knees splayed wide, bare ribs exposed and his tailbone oddly unguarded.

Hiphop then unfolded a number of spindly limbs, each with a sort of soft rubber suction cup on the end. Carefully, he arranged them so that the many cups rested against Cross' bones, placed at what seemed to be specific, strategic locations. When he thought about it, it almost looked like they were keypoints used to calculate distance relative to the rest of him, the points the machine could use to map his body size. It was fine, almost relaxing, until the last eight little fingers were placed: Cross gasped out as tiny metal and rubber rods were slid through his sacrum foramen, cursing under his breath at the sudden penetration. The rods barely grazed his inner surfaces, but even that kind of proximity had his bones warming harshly.

"What a clever customer! Have you seen this model before?" The shopkeeper asked.

"nah. i kinda learn by doing. you have a manual for this thing?"

"I certainly do! It will be included upon purchase."

After Hiphop pressed a few buttons (and the machine whirled to life under and around him), Cross felt the arms and rods move gently against him, mapping him out how he guessed they would. The soft rubber grazed over him in a slow massage, leaving him an odd mixture of relaxed and twitchy. Cross couldn't see well beyond the area of the spotlight, the rest of the room bathed in shadow, so when Hiphop ducked back to stand at the main controls, Cross felt oddly isolated and alone.

At the same time, he could still hear the crackle of the shopkeepers flames, the ragged breathing from Killer. Cross knew he wasn't alone.

"so why do you call it the flosser, again?" Hiphop asked.

"I am so glad you asked~" The shopkeep said, sounding closer. "The device has a number of preprogrammed routines, each one using any number of its many attachments, but the titular one is this one here. Now that you've calibrated the machine for its subject, we simply select the routine you want to use from the menu-"

"and this button is for making our own?" Hiphop interrupted.

"It is indeed! You can create your own custom routines, although it is a bit of a time sink, as well as save measurements for users of varying sizes so you do not have to recalibrate manually every time~"

"can you add custom attachments?" Killer asked.

"You can indeed! The base model comes with 3 unassigned attachment limbs, although you may need to order extra parts for installation beyond that."

"so... this button will run the program for the flosser."

There was a beep.

The machine sprang to life, spindly arms stretching and moving above Cross with alarming speed. Cross instinctively tried to move out of the way, but he was strapped rather securely in place. He braced himself.

A number of mechanical limbs alighted all along Cross' body, all of them attached with brushes of different sizes. They simply pressed themselves against him at first, soft bristles settling against his sensitive, delicate bones. Some went against the outside of his ribs, some reached inside them, and some settled against his vertebrae. Some went against his arms and legs. Some went against his pelvis.

The first ones to start moving were the ones on his femurs, slow, gentle strokes meant to soothe. It worked; Cross closed his sockets and let himself relax focusing on his breathing. Next to start were the ones on his humeri, which tickled a little. Even so, it was soothing. So far so good. Cross let himself go limp, forcing the tension to bleed from his limbs.

The next brush to start moving was the one going up and down his sternum. It might have been soothing if the brush were just a little bit smaller, but as it was, the bristles flexed and grazed over his ribs in their passing, ticking and stimulating the inner surfaces as well as where one bone met the next. Before Cross could adjust to it, a number of smaller brushes began sliding against the inside of his ribs, stimulating and tickling the untouched inner surfaces, as well as the invisible lines of magic that held him together, strumming them. Cross felt his toes curl, heard his voice catch at the stimulation.

The brush at Cross' lumbar vertebrae started next, making slow, broad strokes that were more teasing than anything else. Cross couldn't help squirming, trying to get just a little more friction. He was sweating, trembling in a heat he didn't remember there being any sign of in the beginning. Next, a brush Cross hadn't noticed started grinding itself back and forth over his pubic symphysis, dipping into his obturator foramen. Cross yelped, bucking into the new stimulation, but finding the way he was strapped in made it impossible to move. "fuck-!!"

His magic was beginning to pool in his pelvic girdle, but damn if it could make anything with that brush in the way.

For a while, that's all the machine did, brush and polish his bones, slowly, carefully. Cross couldn't tell if the brushes were excreting an oil or if he was just sweating that much, but he felt warm and slick all over. Worse, he was being edged within an inch of his life, left hanging helpless over a ledge that he couldn't step off of.

Then, _then-_ , Cross felt it: eight tiny brushes, one for each of his sacrum foramen, pressed into the little holes in his tailbone. Cross screamed, not sure if he was trying to get away from the stimulation or press into it for more. At first, the brushes just sat there, then, _then_ they started moving, thrusting in and out of him, the tiny soft bristles grazing deliciously, torturously over the tender inner surfaces.

"holy shit," Cross barely heard over the sound of his own voice, over the rush of magic in his skull, over the sound of his SOUL fluttering wildly, helplessly.

"Will that be cash or credit, sir?"

Cross never heard the answer over the sound of his own moaning. He suspected be already knew the answer anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone is getting a very nice gift for his birthday~


	18. Day 17: A Dress Up Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Three (or more) some | Master/slave | Titfucking  
>  **Kinks:** Collars; Praise; Scent; Empathic Bonds; Role Reversal  
>  **Pairing:** HoneyKrossmare (Underswap!Papyrus / Dr33mtal3!Nightmare / Killer / Cross)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity;  
>  **Length in Words:** ~4.7k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor warning for mentions of Star Wars
> 
> this one gets weird. im still not sure im proud of it or not XD

" _You are not to leave the room no matter what happens,_ " Nightmare said firmly, wings trembling with nerves he was trying to hide (and failing -- the man was so expressive, it was adorable).

"i won't," Stretch assured, adjusting the straps of the costume top around those same wings with utmost care. "who woulda guessed cross and killer were star wars fans." He had to say, with his ecto summoned, Nightmare wore the metal bikini thing rather well, his modest chest accentuated nicely.

" _It is my fool brother's fault, I am sure,_ " Nightmare grumbled. " _Not that it matters in the end, only that this gesture goes towards making amends._ "

Stretch wasn't sure how wearing a costume was supposed to help apologise for Nightmare's mistakes, but he wasn't going to point that out. Nightmare looked damn good, and he was so earnest in his efforts (however misguided). Besides, even if it was a joke from Cross and Killer's ends, Stretch still got to reap the benefits vis a vis seeing his boyfriend in a sexy outfit.

"ok, i think i got the straps settled... is anything pinching? do i need to move them again?" Stretch smoothed over the straps, gently brushing over the soft petals on Nightmare's back. One of them was a tad bruised from being smushed too tight from before, but they were no less beautiful for it.

Night shook his head. " _This is acceptable..._ " The slight lilt in his voice told Stretch his petting was encroaching on intimacy. The sweet scent was another warning. Stretch leaned down, circling his arms around Night's bare summoned tummy and burying his face between Nightmare's wings, nuzzling his scapulae and kissing the soft, sticky petals. Night stiffened, wings poofing up and flicking a few drops of sweet nectar in all directions. " _W-what-?! Be careful back there, insolent mortal-!!_ "

"...nah." Stretch licked the sugar sweetness starting to weep from Night's back. Night trembled in his arms, chest starting to heave, flexing his soft pseudoflesh under Stretch's hands. More importantly, the color was changing from that nervous blue to the soft purples and pinks of a happy, comfy Nightmare. "relax, you look great."

Nightmare put his hands over Stretch's arms, toying with the sleeves of his hoodie. " _I know you think so. It is not your opinion that concerns me, this time._ "

"they asked for this," Stretch reminded him. He gave a few more kisses to Night's vertebrae before pulling back and circling to look at Nightmare from the front. Really, Nightmare wore it well. The gold went much better with his calm, contented purples and pinks, as did the objectively unflattering dull mauve of the fabric pieces. The soft leather boots weren't much different than his usual ones aside from style, hanging a little loose around his tibiae and fibulae. The serpent armbands wouldn't stay on his humeri, so Nightmare had to summon ecto for his upper arms as well, The fabric hung down between his legs, showing off both the summoned softness of his thighs and the slender ivory of his patella, tibiae and fibulae. This was probably the most ecto Stretch had ever seen on Nightmare.

" _Yes, they did. And I follow through with my bargains._ " Nightmare felt along his own bare stomach, taking another deep breath before gesturing for the last piece of the costume: the collar and chain. Stretch had tried to tell him that he hadn't needed that part to meet the requirements, but Nightmare was very earnest, declaring that a slave was not a slave if they were free of their chains, and he had agreed to dress as _slave_ Leia.

Which meant Stretch got to method act as Jabba the whatever, he was a trekkie, thanks.

Stretch picked up the smelted metal collar, thumbing at the smooth surface before unclasping the back and carefully clipping it around Nightmare's bare throat. He had to admit, there was something pleasing about having Nightmare stand there and let him do that, docile and almost subservient. He definitely saw the appeal. The metal chain went on last, clicking into place and hanging down Nightmare's back to trail under and behind him. Stretch picked the end up, thinking how much nicer the whole ensemble would be if it was customized to match Nightmare's circlet, using soft silvers and incorporating more crescent moon imagery.

Now wasn't that a lovely little daydream he would be taking to bed.

" _What thought has you so pleased with yourself?_ " Nightmare asked, a tendril of his coiling around Stretch's wrist, the hold loose and floppy.

"just thinking of how we could improve the design for next time."

Nightmare startled at the admission. There was a faint flush across his face, pink and blue and purple all at once in a lively gradient. " _Let us... go. They are awaiting my arrival in the Television Chamber._ "

"livingroom, bonsai," Stretch chuckled, taking the lead as his boyfriend wanted, for once.

" _That implies the existence of a dying room, which we no longer have._ "

"no, it's just what you call the room with the couch and tv; the living room."

" _You may call it whatever you wish, but that does not change the fact it is the Television Chamber._ "

Stretch loved this man.

* * *

Cross hadn't actually expected things to turn out this way. All he said was that if Nightmare wanted to watch their movie marathon he ought to show he actually wanted to be there. Then, when Nightmare asked how, Killer said to dress like Leia in the slave outfit and Nightmare left...

Now Cross was staring at Nightmare in a revealing metal bikini, actual ecto boobs filling the top just right, his wings tucked primly against his back. He was devoid of the dark slime Cross was so used to seeing him in, his shiny ecto shifting from a soft purple to a powder blue as he watched. A few moments more and Nightmare was sweating, the iconic blackish goo building up on his body again. " _...With this, I have upheld my end of the bargain,_ " Nightmare finally said. " _There are no complaints?_ "

"n-no..." Cross mumbled, watching with dismay as the black ooze soon covered Nightmare entirely, obscuring the sight of him and muting the view of his magic.

" _Good._ " Nightmare took a few steps forward, then stopped, looking to Stretch, who was holding the length of the chain attached to Nightmare's neck. Stretch shook his head, getting in front of Nightmare and guiding him to the couch.

Stretch sat down at the end of the couch, patting his lap with a wry grin. Even though there was room left between Stretch and Cross, Nightmare climbed partially into Stretch's lap, stretching out over him, using a wing and an arm both as a cushion for his head while the other arm and wing draped over him. Stretch stroked over Nightmare's skull, but Cross couldn't see his face from that angle, only the curve of his side, his hips, and his very exposed legs...

And there was just a little peak of his pussy, glistening with something slick and pink.

Cross looked away, staring at the TV and trying not to think too hard about the image right next to him.

Killer leaned forward to stare over Cross' lap, smirking with a blush spreading from his nasal ridge.

"we gonna watch the movie?" Stretch asked, settling the hand with the chain on Nightmare's hip. The metal settled on bare ecto, and Cross could see Nightmare stiffen through his peripheral vision, could hear a soft noise escape through clenched teeth.

"yup." Killer held up the remote. With a few button presses, the movie played.

Cross sat facing the TV, but he was actually looking at Nightmare and Stretch. Stretch was lazily stroking over Nightmare's curves, letting go of the chain to instead bury his fingers in Nightmare's wings. Nightmare's legs shifted on occasion, just the slightest squirming, tension and relaxation of muscles making his thighs twitch.

Killer munched lazily on popcorn, glancing over every so often and grinning that soft grin that still never quite lost the unhinged look even when he was in a good state of mind. Cross almost offered Stretch some popcorn, but he saw Stretch scoop up a glob of Nightmare's slime off his wing and eat it.

Cross had... feelings about that.

Especially seeing that the goo wasn't replenishing itself, soaking into the couch and Stretch's clothes, leaving Nightmare mostly clean of it save what had stained his costume a deep, flattering obsidian.

"he fell asleep," Stretch said. "liking the view?"

Cross flushed. "uh-"

"yup," Killer said, popping the ending consonant with a vicious pleasure.

Stretch chuckled, carding his fingers through the soft purple leaves. "good. he's gonna have a stomach ache when he wakes up..."

"betcha i could help with that," Killer offered. "you in?" He elbowed Cross.

"i- i mean-" it was seriously difficult to think about things when he could smell sugar and see those curves and- He took hold of the chain in trembling fingers, gently tugging, just to see what would happen.

Nightmare moaned softly, stirring. " _Nessese fuit?_ " He mumbled, starting to sit up.

Cross didn't know whether to panic at being caught literally yanking Nightmare's chain, or to delight at hearing such unguarded noises. He dropped the chain hastily, regardless.

"you fell asleep," Stretch pointed out. "you feel alright?"

" _I-_ " Nightmare stopped, hiking his wing up to look back at Cross and Killer. " _...It is nothing that cannot wait._ " He said, enunciation clear and crisp.

"your stomach hurts again, huh." Stretch rubbed over Nightmare's middle. Cross marveled at the way Nightmare's shoulders lost some sort of undefinable stiffness.

"wanna distraction, boss?" Killer asked.

Cross gulped.

Stretch picked the chain back up, tugging gently as Cross had done before. "you're all dressed up, maybe... we could play a little game?"

Nightmare and Cross locked eyes. Cross could almost imagine they were thinking the same thing, that it was crazy, a risk, and a terribly tempting opportunity. Almost: Cross couldn't think of a reason Nightmare would have those thoughts about him.

Nightmare's face broke out into pink light. " _...What did you have in mind..?_ "

"well..." Stretch tugged the chain again, before offering it to Cross.

* * *

Nightmare would have to be blind not to smell the arousal in the air.

He'd gotten bored with the show (what was so interesting about it? he couldn't even understand the moral codes of the characters), and he'd been feeling heavy thanks to the excess of ecto, and Stretch had been stroking him so nicely... Before Nightmare knew it, he'd fallen asleep.

Stretch had that effect on him, the infuriating bastard.

Nightmare had absorbed a significant amount of positivity in his slumber (likely from Stretch), and he was feeling tired and sore from sorting through it. On top of that, his various sensitive areas were starting to itch thanks to _someone_ (Nightmare wasn't going to name names, but he suspected it was someone with a sweet tooth) playing with his wings. Honestly, Nightmare wanted to curl up in Stretch's lap and demand he finish what he started, but he had gone out of his way to try and 'bond' with Killer and Cross.

It was frustrating.

And now Stretch was suggesting some sort of game.

What Nightmare wasn't certain of was if this would be something the other two would even consider. Killer had just threatened to try and stab him, after all. The least Nightmare could do, however, was hear Stretch out. Nightmare had to learn to listen to others, especially the few he trusted.

" _...What did you have in mind..?_ "

"well..." Stretch tugged the chain again, before offering it to Cross. He was keeping his expression rather composed, but inside Nightmare could feel a swirl of nervousness, embarrassment, excitement, and arousal. "these two seemed so interested in seeing you dressed up as a sexy slave, maybe they were hinting at... uh... something they... wanted... to..."

" _Want to what?_ " Nightmare wasn't sure he understood. Was this supposed to be armour? It was made of metal. Was he to do combat?

The flustered emotions swirling in Stretch were starting to surface, flushing his face in that seductive honey gold that was so very distracting. "i mean. they might. want to do things with you that you and i like to do. alone. but together. with them?"

" _Can you be more specific?_ "

Killer radiated mirth, starting to snicker. Cross was suffused in more humiliation and arousal (an odd combination for him). Stretch only got more flustered.

" _Has something absconded with your tongue?_ " Nightmare sat up on his knees, stretching up to cup Stretch's jaw in both hands. " _Let me see, perhaps I can provide a replacement..._ " He couldn't have his valuable advisor mute.

Stretch's fluster reached a fever pitch, his face almost entirely orange (a good look for him).

"mercy, boss," Killer called out. "you're gonna make his soul beat clean out his ribs. like mine. he's saying we kinda wanna..." Now it was Killer's turn to get flustered, the bright blood red of his modified magic spreading over his face. "wanna... see you... play the part you're dressed for? yanno, all subservient and accommodating?"

Cross finally actually took hold of the chain, giving it a tentative tug.

Nightmare's mind finally caught up with what the others were actually implying. He felt heat flood his face. " _You wish to see me Service you-?!_ "

"uh-"

Stretch quelled some of the maelstrom of emotions in himself, shaking his head as if to clear it. "it might go a long way to showing them you're not going to bite their heads off at every little thing..." The sheer level of want hidden in those words was extraordinary.

Nightmare looked down at the chain, then back up at Stretch. He had Stretch's word that he would stay with him. Stretch would not break his vow. And neither would Nightmare.

" _I will remove the collar if and when I decide enough is enough,_ " Nightmare said clearly. " _Until that point... it is only fitting to play the role I have dressed for._ "

"sweet," Killer said, grabbing the chain and pulling on it. "c'mere."

Nightmare gave Stretch a squeeze, a silent reminder, and then let Killer pull him to the other side of the couch. The tugging meant he had to climb over Cross (who pressed himself against the back of the couch to avoid being struck with Nightmare's wings), shifting his body until he was straddling Killer's lap.

"heh, never noticed how tiny you are before, boss," Killer hummed, face still sporting that sparkling red blush. Killer's exposed SOUL, thrumming softly in its native state of an inverted heart, beat terribly close to Nightmare's clavicle, the pulsing waves of emotion battering like a lover's heated breath over the exposed mounds of Nightmare's summoned breasts. Nightmare shivered, torn between looking down at it and up at Killer's face. The choice was made for him when Killer tilted his chin up. "my eyes are up here, boss. or, heh, guess i should call ya something else for this game. how about... nighty~"

Nightmare felt his whole body clench at such a soft monicker, a diminutive of a bastardization of a translation of a diminutive of his true name, time and circumstance coming together to make it sound so _soft_. Night couldn't hold eye contact, averting his eyelight. " _If it pleases you..._ "

"well, nighty, lets see if we can get you more in the mood..." Killer reached around, starting to make little circles on the exposed vertebrae of Nightmare's lower back, working his hand up until finally carding his fingers through the tender tufts of Nightmare's petals. Nightmare tensed again, bracing for the pain, for those fingers to dig in with cruelty and rip him apart. Instead, all he felt was gentleness, thoughtful fingertips caressing his petals and leaves, occasionally worming their way under to find the carefully hidden stamen and stroke them too. Heat worked its way outward from Killer's hand, melting any tension out of Nightmare's body.

Nightmare braced his hands on Killer's chest, careful to avoid contact with his SOUL. The construct pulsed ever stronger, radiating emotion and warmth that spread from the tips of Nightmares fingers, down his arms, and into his own chest where it lingered. With two sources of heat to coax him there, Nightmare found himself sinking into a bog of arousal and dizzying pulses of pleasure. His eyesight began to fuzz at the edges.

"wow. heh, cross, you seeing this?"

Nightmare was officially dizzy. He couldn't quite feel out Cross' emotions, the whole room suffused with arousal to the point that anything else was completely hidden. He tried turning his head, but Killer had his chin in a firm grip.

"yeah," Cross' voice finally rasped.

Killer finally let go of Nightmare's wings, pulling his hand back to the space between them. It was sparkling lewdly with pink powder, drenched in nectar. "i'm not really into sugar," he lied, right to Nightmare's face, "so... clean this up for me." Nightmare tried getting up to find a napkin or other cleaning implement, but Killer pulled him back. "with your... tongue."

Nightmare flushed. " _...As you wish..._ " he acknowledged, before gripping at Killer's wrist and pulling it down to his level. He swallowed, trying to well up some moisture along the appendage in his mouth before parting his teeth and allowing it to snake out, taking the pollen and nectar from Killer's fingers. Tasting his own sweetness was an experience Nightmare didn't have often (or ever before Stretch got a taste for him), and even now it still felt embarrassing to do; lewd, almost but not quite taboo.

"heh," Killer chuckled, flexing the fingers Nightmare had so carefully cleaned. "you’re pretty good at this obedient slave thing. good job."

Nightmare refused to take that as a complement. He refused. He refused to. He could feel himself quivering at the praise, anyway.

"cmon, guys, don't make me do all the work," Killer complained.

Nightmare felt a tug at his collar again. He turned, following the pressure back to Cross. Cross was flushed a vivid purple across his face, his hand trembling where he had a grip on the chain. Nightmare looked up at him with only the slightest acceptance and disappointment; he supposed it was too much to ask for Cross to be comfortable in his presence, when Nightmare was so terrifying and imposing.

"is it alright if cross touches your back?" Stretch asked from the side.

Cross' blush intensified, his emotional state flaring brighter, hotter, exacerbating the heavy cotton feeling in Nightmare's skull. Nightmare nodded, grasping blindly onto Cross' chest until he found purchase on his coat. He felt like he was going to fall over, slumping forward to tuck himself closer to Cross rather than risk falling back and landing badly.

After a few moments of equilibrium, Cross' hand settled, not on Nightmare's back, but in the tangle of his wings. Cross' clever fingers dug deeper to the stems, nudging and tuggin them, sending electric pulses down the whole limb to Nightmare's back. Nightmare grit his teeth, quivering in the mess of heat and sweet aroma he was steeping in. Cross' emotional state was terribly unusual, a mess of embarrassment, excitement, and something close to want, to nostalgia. It only made Nightmare's cognitive processes that much more difficult to access.

"soft..." Cross murmured, voice dripping in pleasant surprise. Nightmare shivered, feeling the weight of it settle on him, fueling the not-flames keeping his senses alight.

Cross let go of the chain and Nightmare's wing, bringing his hands down to grip at the hooks connecting Nightmare's chest support to his shoulder straps. "i. i wanna. i want you to. with your. um..." He disengaged the hooks, sliding the bra down enough to let Nightmare's breasts peek out, then reached behind Nightmare and unhooked the rest of it until he could pull the whole thing off. "i..."

Given a moment of reprieve from stimulation, Nightmare looked down at his now bare breasts. He hated them, if he were honest, rarely if ever summoning them except when necessary. They were on the small side, barely more than the size of flowers.

"your... on my, uh, on my..." Cross unzipped his pants, pulling out a rather stiff phallus.

Nightmare shivered, bringing his hands up to grip his breasts. They fit adequately in each hand, not exactly sizable. He squeezed gently, concerned that his assets may not be adequate at all for the task asked of him. " _As you wish,_ " he said before shifting back to one side of Cross. He leaned over as best he could, gripping his small chest again and pressing himself against Cross's dick, slotting the length of it against his sternum.

"holy fuck, he's soft-!!" Cross babbled like the idiot he was. Nightmare kept his head down, not certain how to keep doing what he was doing and look Cross in the eye.

"yeah," Killer agreed, purring from his vantage point.

Nightmare kept up the gentle thrusting of his body, rubbing Cross' dick into his sternum. Cross was already starting to weep pre, the heady musk of his magic coating his fingers and chest more with every grinding stroke, adding to the familiar, sweaty, damp sensation that was settling over Nightmare's whole body. The arousal in the air was so thick it was all Nightmare could taste, sparking heat in his soul that made him pant in an attempt to cool down.

His chest began to ache from being squished so long. Nightmare attempted to grind faster to compensate.

" _fuck-_ " There was something satisfying about hearing Cross swear. Nightmare felt Cross' legs tremble and twitch under him, bumping against Nightmare's midriff irregularly.

"ok, stop," Killer ordered.

Nightmare obeyed, letting go of his chest and slumping over Cross' lap, light headed and aching. The slitted opening between his legs was starting to itch terribly. The bundle of nerves hidden at its peak throbbed, demanding attention that Nightmare had neither the reserves nor the convenience to give it.

"hey! i was-" Cross snapped at Killer, who just laughed.

A hand settled on Nightmare's skull, making little circles with its fingertips. "you're doing great, sweets," Stretch murmured. The steady attention, the heat, the scent of arousal; it was enough to drive someone crazy. Nightmare went limp, nuzzling into that hand. More hands settled on him, stroking his back and wings, adding to a hedonistic intimacy that Nightmare did not think could exist.

"oh, fuck, he's..." Cross' voice sounded shredded.

"yeah. ...nighty, come sit in my lap." Killer called.

Nightmare pushed himself back on his hands and knees, a certain level of outrage brewing at the back of his mind when the disobedient limbs trembled, threatening to give out. He backed up slowly and settled in Killer's lap without looking, uncertain if he could maintain his balance for such a complicated feat in his current state. He felt something hot poke him in the back before Killer's hands gripped his hips and guided him up on his knees, supporting him enough that they didn't give in to his increased weight. The fabric of his bottoms was shifted, and two fingers prodded at his slit.

"he's soaked," Killer observed aloud, his fingers curling and dragging at Nightmare's inner walls. Nightmare brought his wrist up to his teeth and bit down, groaning softly, scrambling to pull together his already devastated composure. Killer pulled his fingers out, then guided Nightmare's hips back down. Nightmare felt something significantly bigger than a finger prod at the space between his legs before sliding smoothly inside him, stretching him, filling him. "oh, fuck-!!"

Nightmare's vision blacked out entirely, all systems focused on the sensation of finally, blissfully being filled.

Someone (he assumed it to be Cross) tugged at the chain, pulling Nightmare forward. At some point between one moment and the next, Cross had gotten up on his knees. "don't leave me out!" He cupped Nightmare's face, guiding him to lean forward more until his face was close to Cross' dick. "s- can you- uh- use your mouth..?"

Nightmare focused his vision (which seemed to be fading in and out with his dizziness), gripping Cross by the hips. " _A- as you- wish..._ " He mumbled between stuttered breaths. Taking one last moment to try and breathe, Nightmare parted his teeth and swallowed as much of Cross's shaft as he could manage, curling his tongue around the length of it and squeezing.

" _fuck_ -!! oh fuck, boss-!!" Cross whimpered over his head. "like that. just like that. more..!"

Nightmare added more appendages in his mouth, using some to stroke, some to squeeze, and one to tease the tip and spread Cross' pre to slicken the friction. The taste of him was intoxicating, suffused with every emotion Cross was feeling at the moment, the desire to be useful, the desire to protect what was important to him, a sense of safety in the dark. Nightmare rocked back and forth, trying to add a pumping motion. In the process, he kept pulling off and sliding back down onto Killer.

Killer bucked up into Nightmare, groaning. "yeah..! more of that..!"

Nightmare groaned around his mouthful, clenching around Killer's magic. He made his rocking more prominent, fucking himself on one of his minions while sucking off the other. The heat, the friction, the scent of arousal and want coating the air like a thick miasma, it was all becoming too much for Nightmare to bear. He heard voices carve profanities in the air above him. When Cross came down his throat, shoving the taste of pleasure into him in a sudden burst, Nightmare forgot how to do anything else but feel it, soaking it into himself like a desperately dry sponge finally given water.

He came, wings and clit throbbing with electric need, outraged at being left out of the process.

Killer bucked up into him, cursing, and then Nightmare felt Killer fill him from behind with his own release.

Nightmare didn't know how long he knelt there, impaled between the two of them, before cool, gentle hands unclasped the collar from his throat and slowly guided Cross and him apart. Nightmare panted wetly, blinking away tears he hadn't noticed well up. "my turn," Stretch murmured, scooping Nightmare up and off of Killer. Nightmare cried out at the last, delicious drag of friction, at the slick pop of being parted, clawing at Stretch's familiar hoodie. Every touch just fanned the flames of heat in his magic, in his bones, his very soul. Pleasure was a taste, a smell, a color overlaid atop every other speck of stimulation. Nightmare came again, trembling in Stretch's arms.

The last thing Nightmare knew before he passed out was the scent of sweetness that always clung to Stretch's clothes.

* * *

Stretch cradled Night close, uncaring of the mess. His boyfriend was more slime than skeleton by this point, thick globs of sweet pink nectar sloughing off of him to stain the floor, the couch, and everyone's clothes. Maybe a three-way wasn't a good idea when Nightmare was so touch starved...

"holy shit," Killer breathed, flushed. His lap and the lower half of his shirt was completely covered in pink, little pastel stains left where Nightmare had fisted his jacket.

"yeah..." Cross wasn't much better, pink handprint stains on his hips and streaks of it all over his pants. There was also a strip of sugar pink along the top of his skull, wiped there when he had cleared away his own sweat from his brow.

Stretch chuckled, collapsing back onto the couch with Night in his lap. He shimmined out of his hoodie, draping it over Nightmare for some decency and comfort. He cradled him with one arm, stroking over what was probably a sore middle with the other, lamenting that the castle still lacked a bathroom area. He'd have to talk to Nightmare about that, because a nice soak in a hot bath would have been the perfect end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you it got weird
> 
> i was so mad writing this: nightmare took two steps then dropped into subspace like a horny rock. do you have any idea how hard it is to write from that kinda perspective?! WEH


	19. Day 18: Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Petplay | Humiliation | Bloodplay  
>  **Kinks:** Collars; Degredation; Praise; Masochism  
>  **Pairing:** Dr33mtal3!Dream / Underswap!Sans  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Implied/Referenced Cross having fun  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.8k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isndkdhddbdkbdnf

Dream supposed he first realized it while he was out shopping for a birthday gift for Cross.

It was the first outing since Dream's... therapy (the nicest word for it, and Dream would never be ungrateful for the change in his quality of life, only bitter that it had to be paid so heavily in blood). His wings were finally big enough that he did not worry about them being damaged through accidental rough housing, silky new growths shimmering with hesitant delight at the new experiences he had to look forward to. Blue was smiling that big, irresistible smile, the one that made Dream question which of them was the true Guardian of Positivity when surely no expression could have ever graced his own features that held even a fraction of Blue's radiance. The two of them had been in and out of shop after shop in the mall, looking at clothes, teas, cooking utensils, and books. Blue had picked out a cookbook about pastries, while Dream had decided on a simple hand game where you turned the pieces of a block until the colors matched on every side. The two of them were headed out of the store, taking a longer route so they could pass an icecream parlor and pick some treats up for their siblings, taking them around a corner they hadn't yet been near.

Dream almost walked right past it, except the moment he was in front of the display window, the backlights snapped on, putting the manikins in stark relief for a few moments before the ambient light revealed their detail. Dream froze midstep, the glint of metal drawing his eye.

In the window of the costume shop (for surely that was what it was, what other kind of store would have such a display?) were two manikins, one standing over the other reclined at its feet. The standing one was dressed in a skin-tight black suit, slits strategically placed at the side of the hips and mound of the shoulders. In its upraised hand was the loop of a chain that hung down, ending in a clasp that was secured to a D-ring on the collar that the kneeling manikin wore around its throat. The kneeling manikin wore little else beyond matching cuffs on its wrists and ankles, along with a split skirt that was clearly designed to only just cover the area between the legs, fanned out in a dangerously careful manner around it.

Somehow, as fate would have it, Dream's reflection perfectly aligned with the kneeling manikin, so that on his gazing, he could see his image overlaying it, and all too easily imagine it was his own throat around which the collar lay. The imagery struck his sensibilities almost like a physical blow, leaving his mind reeling and unable to grasp anything else beyond the suggestion of what, in that moment, felt like such a natural and desirable circumstance. Dream was awash in a sudden heat, and he brought his hand up to his neck, briefly and vainly hoping that if his reflection could touch the artifact, it would make it real in his hand.

"DREAM?"

Dream lingered on the sight of the chain, hanging down and away from the collar, letting his eyelights travel up to see where it was so confidently held by that hand.

"DREAM??"

It would be all too easy to imagine that hand wearing a pair of baby blue gloves-

" _DREAM?!?!_ "

Dream shook himself, turning his full attention back to his companion. " _Yes, Blueberry?_ "

Blue stared back at him, dripping in concern and surprise. "YOU WERE SPACING OUT." He looked back at the costume store. "YOU ARE NOT... INTERESTED IN THOSE SORTS OF THINGS, ARE YOU?"

Dream grit his teeth, forcing whatever paltry fancy may have crossed his mind down and shoving it aside. He was still Dream, the Guardian of Positivity, and he had to act with a certain air of dignity for his station. He couldn't bear to disappoint his people any more than he already had. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Blue. He had to be responsible, he had to show him a smile. " _Think nothing of it. There, the sweets shop is just ahead. Shall we?_ "

Dream walked briskly away from the costume shop, headed to the icecream parlor with steely determination and the softest grin he could muster. He had more important things to do than fantasize about being something he could never be.

* * *

Dream was next reminded of it at Cross' party. The guest of honor had already opened all his gifts and was enjoying a new videogame (Nightmare's gift had been internet access and electricity installed in the castle with Error and Ink's help, a feat that Nightmare had deliberately neglected to mention, having declined attending the festivities). Dream sat near a small bookshelf, content to step back and soak up all the ambient positivity.

Ink handed Cross a last minute gift, which Cross paused his game to open. His baseline cheer was distorted by a spike in embarrassment and arousal as he pulled out a matching leash and collar set, both in a pure black leather. He pulled them out, just holding them there while he stared at them, flushed purple across his face.

Dream couldn't look away, thinking about how it would feel to have that around his neck, the leash in Cross' firm grip, letting him take the literal and metaphorical lead and-

"THAT SURE WAS A THOUGHTFUL GIFT, HUH?" Blue said from somewhere to Dream's left.

Dream jolted, shaking his head to dislodge those ridiculous thoughts. He should know better. " _I am sure that Cross will find a fine use for them,_ " Dream answered.

Blue watched Dream carefully, scrutinizing, a vortex of complicated, if delighted, feelings. Dream was delighted that Cross would enjoy his gifts too; the poor man deserved to have some happiness in his life. Blue quirked a brow, then sat down beside Dream and held his hand. Dream gave it a light squeeze, stretching his wings out to circle Blue and keep him close.

That little indulgence was enough. It was more than he deserved.

* * *

Dream had almost managed to forget about it.

It was Dream's turn to try his hand in the kitchen, since the rule was everyone pitched in here and there. He was chopping onions (terrible bastards, the lot of them, thinking they're so great with their stinky screaming and their fat, chunky roots, the dirty whores, who taught them to swear like that, and in front of Blue no less!) for the soup that Dust wanted to try, something about it going well with fresh bread. Dream wasn't the best with knives, his hands used to wielding a different kind of weapon, so he shouldn't have been surprised when midway through his second onion he nicked his finger.

Dream flinched back, feeling his whole body stiffen from the pain. The cut welled with a vivid red amber, trying to scab over and heal his injury. He tried to ignore the pink that joined it, wrapping his hand in a strip of cloth to keep the virulent sweetness of his nectar from contaminating the crisp bitterness of his companion's onions.

"what..?" Dust was a source of confusion, looking this way and that. He turned on Dream, sniffing. "...sugar."

Dream pointedly did not look at him, feeling the heat in his own cheeks swell. " _Worry not, for it will not muddy the flavor of your onions._ "

Dust got closer, looming with his height advantage. He picked Dream up by his hips, like a doll, and brought his face close to his wings, so close Dream could feel his breath against him. _To think it was so easy to pick him up, move him around, Dust could do anything to him-_

Dust put Dream outside the kitchen. "shoo."

" _Are you quite certain-_ "

"take your fuck smell elsewhere."

Burning what had to be an incredibly bright, humiliated orange, Dream nodded and power walked away, still clutching his cut finger. If he squeezed it just right, it ached and burned, sending jolts of sensation through his whole body that ended in a tingle in his scapulae.

Right then, all Dream wanted was to fall into a hole and lay there.

* * *

"DREAM?" Blue called from the doorway.

It had been a few days since the kitchen mishap. Dream was reading a book about insects, trying to find something to help with his phobia (with little result). He was more than happy to set such uncomfortable research aside to pay attention to Blue. " _Yes?_ "

"CAN WE TALK?"

" _I almost always have time to speak with you, Blueberry._ "

As Dream set his book aside, Blue sat beside him on the couch. "I WANTED TO ASK YOU ABOUT..." he paused, thoughtful, before pulling a leash and collar out from one of his hidden pockets. This one was a powder blue to match his scarf and eyelights. "THESE."

Dream gulped, trying not to look at them directly, lest he begin to daydream again. " _What about them?_ "

"DO YOU WANT TO SEE ME WEAR ONE?"

" _Not particularly,_ " Dream answered, relieved. " _But I will think no less of you if that is your desire. You can wear whatever you wish._ "

"I SEE." Blue hummed, starting to drip in something smug and satisfied. "THEN YOU WISH TO WEAR IT YOURSELF?"

Dream swallowed. " _I do not know where you could have gotten such an idea-_ "

"THAT WAS NOT A NO." Blue cut him off, unclasping the collar and showing off the soft inner lining. "DREAM, YES OR NO."

" _I-_ " Dream looked away. " _I would never presume to think it worthwhile-_ "

Blue slung the collar around Dream's throat, cinching it firmly. "NAUGHTY SUCCULENT. YOU WERE AVOIDING MY QUESTION."

The accusation sent a strange thrill down Dream's spine. " _I-_ "

Blue tugged on the leash. "HUSH, YOU." His voice was harsh, but Dream could feel the satisfaction, the pleasure, coming off of him in waves. "THE ONLY WORD BESIDES YES AND NO YOU GET TO SAY IS YOUR SAFEWORD. WHICH IS 'SAFEWORD' UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" 

" _...Yes,_ " Dream breathed, looking up at Blue and praying he wasn't as much of a disappointment as he felt, face burning and starting to slicken with nectar.

Blue smirked, cupping Dream's jaw and thumbing at his mandible. "SEE? YOU CAN BEHAVE WHEN YOU WANT TO. BUT YOU'RE A _NAUGHTY_ SUCCULENT, AREN'T YOU? ALWAYS TRYING TO HIDE HOW YOU FEEL, DEFLECTING, THINKING BADLY OF MY BOYFRIEND WITHOUT PERMISSION. BAD BOY."

Dream shivered. " _...Yes..._ " The heat in his body was starting to build. All he could think about was the weight and pressure on his neck, and Blue's voice.

Blue gave the leash a tug. "LOOK AT YOU. YOU HAVE BEEN WEARING THIS FOR ALL OF TWO MINUTES AND YOU ARE ALREADY SUCH A USELESS MESS, DRIPPING PINK ON THE FURNITURE. LOOK AT THE MESS YOU'RE MAKING."

Dream glanced down. Sure enough, nectar was starting to pool behind him, dripping off his wings. Dream fisted the fabric of his apron in his lap, shame hitting him.

"HOW DEPRAVED, BEING SO TURNED ON BY JUST A COLLAR THAT YOU MESS ALL OVER THE COUCH." Blue made Dream look back at him. "YOU REALLY OUGHT TO BE PUNISHED, DON'T YOU THINK?"

Dream swallowed hard. " _...Yes..!_ "

"GOOD BOY," Blue purred, summoning a bone construct. "NOW..." He tugged on the leash. "FACE DOWN IN MY LAP, WHERE YOU BELONG." The words were interwoven with excitement, a kind of dark, covetous positivity, that Dream couldn't help enjoying the taste of from Blue. Dream had no idea what was going to happen, but he'd never been more aroused outside of season in his fucking life. He lay himself down, stretched out over Blue's lap and trying not to tremble.

Dream heard a snapping noise over his head. Then Blue showed him the sharp, broken end of his bone construct, now turned into a makeshift shiv. "DO YOU WANT THIS?"

Dream didn't want to answer. He'd already made a fool of himself enough! Blue was going to be so disappointed in him.

"ANSWER, PET," Blue commanded, tone going firm despite the unwavering delight dripping from him.

" _...Yes..._ " Dream couldn't lie even if he wanted to. And Blue knew it.

"GOOD BOY," Blue murmured, dragging the blade across Dream's cheek, near the scars under his sockets. "BUT YOU KEEP HESITATING. NAUGHTY SUCCULENT, THINKING ABOUT DISOBEYING ME. YOU KNOW BETTER." The shiv was taken away from Dream's face, and he lay there, quivering, feeling the slick travel down his back to soak his shirt, feeling his magic build up in his trousers until his dick manifested.

Then he felt the shiv slice off one of his leaves at the stem. The pain shook his system, curling his toes and blotting his vision.

"DID YOU LIKE THAT?"

Dream grit his teeth, shivering. He had to claw at the couch to keep himself from reaching for his groin.

Blue tugged at the collar. "NAUGHTY SUCCULENT. DO NOT MAKE ME ASK AGAIN."

" _Yes-!!_ " Dream whispered.

"WHAT WAS THAT? LOUDER."

" _Yes!!_ "

"DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP?"

" _N-no..!_ " Dream was dizzy. Blue was ablaze with positivity. Dream felt like his bones were made of fire more than anything else. The drag of the flat of the shiv over his spine set Dream alight once again, making his dick throb and his usually loose trousers feel tight. The blade skipped along, scratching lightly at his vertebrae before shifting to dig into his ribs.

Then another leaf was cut. Then another rib. Then two leaves in a row. Then it sliced his arm, cutting clean through his leave and leaving a stain of bloody amber. Next, Blue dug the point into the tender area of Dream's scapula, and Dream couldn't take it anymore: he came, ruining his pants and the couch alike.

Blue's arousal hit a fever pitch, a low growl rumbling in his ribs, so soft Dream may not have caught it without being so close. "DID YOU JUST COME?"

Dream's face was burning. " _Yes..._ "

"I DID NOT SAY YOU COULD COME, YOU BAD LITTLE SUCCULENT. YOU MADE AN EVEN BIGGER MESS. AND LOOK, YOU BLED ALL OVER MY GLOVES." Blue held his gloved hand in front of Dream's face. Sure enough, it was stained all over in all of Dream's colors, reds, oranges, yellows, and no small amount of pink. "CLEAN THIS UP. USE YOUR TONGUE LIKE THE ANIMAL YOU ARE."

Dream shook, eagerly opening his mouth to extend his tongue. He was no good at taking things, it was always such a struggle for him, so he had to lick the colored slick away manually. Tasting his own sugars was a new kind of embarrassing, although Dream couldn't quite pinpoint why.

Blue's other hand started to stroke over Dream's skull, slow, soothing motions that Dream began to match with his tongue. He felt a prominent heat under him, radiating from Blue's pelvis stronger with each passing moment. "YEAH, THERE YOU GO. YOU LIKE CLEANING UP YOUR OWN MESSES, DON'T YOU, YOU SHAMELESS BRAT. HORRIBLE, SELFISH, ORNERY LITTLE BUSH BRAIN..."

Blue was right: Dream was selfish, and depraved, and terrible. He moaned around a mouthful of Blue's fingers, trying to suck off a particularly stubborn bit of dried blood.

Blue pulled his fingers out of Dream's mouth, using a combination of leash pulling and the gentle command of his knuckles under Dream's chin to order him up on his knees, head tilted to face Blue. "BUT THAT'S OKAY. IT IS OKAY THAT YOU ARE NOT PERFECT. I AM GOING TO LOVE YOU ANYWAY."

Dream felt the heat of his tears well up in his sockets, overflowing without his consent. Blue smeared them across his cheek, smiling, still viscerally pleased. He tugged Dream closer roughly, knocking Dream off balance so he had to lean on him, then he took a kiss, deep and slow and profound, tearing Dream apart from the inside and building him up again with a few simple gestures.

When Blue pulled away, Dream slumped into him more, resting his head on Blue's padded shoulder as he panted. His vision was blurry, his body was hot, and all he could sense was Blue's maelstrom of positivity and arousal, just him and the collar still around Dream's throat.

Blue reached for the collar, starting to work the clasp. Dream instinctively gripped his wrists, squeezing in a quiet, desperate plea.

"YOU WANT TO STAY LIKE THIS A LITTLE LONGER?"

" _...Yes._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen


	20. Day 19: Rick Roll but It's Sanscest I Guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** ~~Hate sex~~ | Cockwarming | Mirror sex  
>  **Kinks:** Soul Play; Anal; Praise  
>  **Pairing:** Dancetale!Sans / Killer (Sans!OC)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; dissociative episodes; implied/referenced therapy  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.9k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for some soft snuggles and supportive relationships motherfucker

Hiphop stumbled out of the ballroom (the best room in the whole fucking castle; say what you wanted about Nightmare, but the man knew how to design for acoustics). His feet were sore from dancing barefoot on hard stone, his usual sneakers having mysteriously vanished and his socks lacking the friction he needed to stay upright. Hiphop was ready to crash, and he once again lamented that there wasn't an elevator down to the dungeons, where he had somehow gotten roped into staying.

He knew how, and damn that man's stupid adorable face for cursing him so.

Hiphop was considering the pros and cons of finding one of the empty bedrooms and curling up to rest when a deep, instinctual warning lit up in his soul, telling him to _dodge_. Hiphop threw himself to the side, his back to the wall, just in time to see a glint of red light streak through the air where he had been and strike the wall, embedding itself. The knife construct quivered, vibrating with a hypnotic twang until it went still, stuck in the black stone on level with Hiphop's neck.

Hiphop gulped, turning to see Killer stalk down the corridor, flipping another knife construct in his hand, his grin far sharper than the blade. His SOUL, exposed as usual, was quivering erratically, misshapen and pulsing like something tormented and alive. As Killer got closer, Hiphop began to hear it, the anguished squeaking, like subliminal screams.

"god damn it," Hiphop muttered, fighting the part of his own SOUL screaming at him to run. Running would only make Killer's episode worse. Hiphop had to remain calm. If he stayed calm, it would help Killer find calm again. "bad dream again?"

Killer tossed another knife. Hiphop sidestepped it lazily, swallowing back his panic. "yup. ok. lets get you back to bed..." He pulled his hands out of his pockets, opening his arms wide in a supplicating gesture.

Killer froze mid step, the ridge of his eyesockets twitching as black ooze dripped down his face. His SOUL spasmed, an internal war going on that would only buy Hiphop a few seconds. Hiphop kicked himself into gear, his song sudden and loud as it echoed through the empty hall. He gripped Killer in BLUE magic and slammed him as hard as he could into the wall, darting forward to pin his wrists firmly and hold him there.

Killer thrashed, laughing in that humorless, broken way he did when he wasn't quite himself. Hiphop grit his teeth, holding on as best he could with magic and body both. "c’mon, stabby, i'm gonna need you to work with me a little, here."

Killer just kept laughing, kept trying to buck Hiphop off. Fucker. Bastard. Dick. Why did Hiphop like him so much? He should kick his ass. He should throw him over his knee and spank him, he should-

Hiphop growled, then took a deep breath and bit down on Killer's shoulder. Hard. Killer went still again, the screaming in his SOUL going abruptly silent in the same moment his body went limp. Hiphop held on a few more breaths, counting down from ten just to be sure Killer wasn't going to fall back into crazy the minute he unclenched his jaw.

Killer grunted when Hiphop finally let go, staying still and pliant and quiet. "ok. you with me, kills?"

Killer nodded, a tiny jitter of a thing, still staring all but blindly at the wall he was pinned against. Liar: Killer was so far gone he was on autopilot, responding to stimuli without even thinking about it. His face was marred in those black streaks of shiny wet slime, but his smile had turned from empty to pained, a tremble starting in his hands, attempting to spread down his arm to the rest of him.

"i'm gonna let go. we're gonna go to your room. ok?"

Another quiet nod.

Hiphop slowly relaxed his hold, shifting to an underarm grip when Killer all but fell on him. Hiphop grunted, moving around until he had one of Killer's arms slung over his shoulders and could walk him down the hall towards the private rooms. Killer still had a room on the ground floor, assigned back before things changed, before Hiphop moved in. Times like this were a good reason to keep it in good condition.

The walk was longer than Hiphop would have liked, given his feet had been aching to begin with, but they made it without Killer pulling out another knife and that's what mattered.

The room was still somewhat spartan, having only a bed, a beanbag chair, a full length mirror with a crack going along one side, and three cat trees that had been well loved by the only other occupants of the room. Hiphop got Killer onto the bed, laying on top of him with a relieved sigh as he finally got to give his feet a rest. Killer lay largely limp and unresponsive, his SOUL quivering in quiet anxiety next to HipHop's head.

Hiphop curled his hand around the fragile, exposed thing, stroking its shifting surface. He felt Killer shiver under him, making a noise of surprise, before devolving into a purr that resonated in the vibrations of his SOUL. Hiphop pressed his relieved smile into the soft surface. "that's it, kills, i'm here, i gotcha..." He hummed, focusing on a calming tune he hoped would draw Killer's SOUL into singing along.

Fuck, he hoped he was doing this right. If he fucked up and Killer stabbed him... fucker was gonna come out of his funk covered in dust.

Killer eventually made a soft noise, rolling over to tug Hiphop into his arms and hold him there, holding Hiphop over his exposed SOUL as if he could protect it from the world with his body. Hiphop hugged him right back, rubbing up and down Killer's spine as he shook, letting him hide in Hiphop's shoulder.

"that's it, babe. you're doing great. just relax..." Hiphop held Killer's head there against him, stroking over the smooth planes of his skull. He felt at Killer's vertebral spines through his clothes with the other hand, thumbing at the curves and divots, trying to work out stress. He could feel the gooey black slime starting to soak into the shoulder of his pullover. "...need a distraction?"

Killer made another soft noise, nodding against Hiphop's arm.

"ok. big spoon or little spoon?"

Killer hesitated, but slowly squirmed until he had his back to Hiphop, still holding Hiphop's hand against his SOUL. Hiphop gave it a gentle squeeze. "'kay. jacket off."

Killer started to squirm out of his jacket, a bit of a feat since he also insisted that Hiphop stay in contact with him. Hiphop couldn't blame him; sometimes physical contact was the only thing that held Killer together. Sometimes it wasn't enough, but that's what the sedative in Hiphop's pocket was for.

The jacket came off, which Killer tossed to the end of the bed. Hiphop snuggled against his back, nudging his turtleneck out of the way to leave a kiss on his neck. Killer made another soft noise (a good sign), tilting his head to give Hiphop more access. Hiphop lingered there, stroking Killer's SOUL as he kissed and nibbled, working until his hand was slick with one type of fluid or another before using his other hand to weedle into Killer's shorts. His hand found Killer had already manifested his magic for him, dick and ass ready for attention. Hiphop stroked over Killer's shaft, gentle and slow, teasing the tip, before shifting down and around to work his ass open.

A bloody red flush was starting to shine from under the black streaks on Killer's maxilla and zygomatic. Hiphop caught sight of it in the old mirror across the room.

A mischievous idea took form. Hiphop added a second finger to Killer's ass, still thumbing sweetly to his buzzing SOUL. "hey... hey babe, look up for me?"

Killer shifted, blinking up at the middle distance.

"see the mirror?"

Killer didn't react at first, but it wasn't long before Hiphop felt him clench around his fingers, his SOUL fluttering against his palm.

"yeah. see that? that's you, and me..." Hiphop added a third finger, watching through the reflection to see Killer's flush deepen. "see how nice you're being for me? how good?"

Oh, that was a shiver, full body right down the line of contact between them. Killer gripped tighter to Hiphop's wrist, stopping the line of slick that was dripping from Killer's SOUL down his arm. Hiphop smirked, nibbling again at Killer's shoulder, starting to grind his own bulge into Killer's tailbone. There was very little more amazing to see than the man you loved falling apart in your hands. Watching him watch himself fall apart and realize that that was what Hiphop got to enjoy each time: a priceless experience. Hiphop started pumping faster, trying to play Killer like a harp and make him sing. "yeah... just like that. you've been doing great for me. i'm so proud of you. you look amazing. love you like this..."

Killer whimpered, finally looking away from the mirror as his body began to spasm. Hiphop pulled his fingers out, slowing his SOUL petting. The loss of stimulation dragged a delicious whine out of his bedmate, making him squirm against Hiphop's body. This was the only way Hiphop ever wanted Killer going crazy, drenched in sweat with his dick straining against his shorts and his SOUL dripping slick into his hand. Hiphop eased first Killer's shorts down, then the waistband of his own pants, slicking his dick up before lining up to Killer's exit and pushing in slow.

The first word wrung out of Killer's mouth was a rather satisfying, raw profanity. Hiphop chuckled, pressing in to the hilt and purring with a deep, low satisfaction. Killer was warm and soft underneath all that artificial stabby-ness. That was who he was, a warm, soft person with too much love to give, so much he was punished for it. Hiphop held him closer, wrapping his now free hand around Killer's dick and stroking him in earnest.

"how you feel, babe?"

Killer whimpered, still struggling with words. That was fine. That was normal. Hiphop just had to be patient. They had all day.

* * *

Killer was vaguely aware of what he was doing when he had an episode. He could tell he was walking, he could tell when people got close. He knew when his numbers went up: that was the worst, honestly. He also knew when he felt safe: that was the best. That was when the demon on his shoulder was easier to ignore.

And right then, Killer felt very, very safe. The raw nerve that was his permanently exposed SOUL felt secure for once, held between his chest and soothing fingers that only wanted him to feel good things. His shoulder ached in a good way, the wound buzzing with ameliorating intent instead of the violent kind. There was a solid, warm line at his back, arms around him, hands holding him, and Killer only really felt good things: things like 'comfortable'; things like 'arousal'; things like 'pleasure'.

The first moment Killer was truly cognizant of where he was was when he realized he was in bed, Hiphop clutched to his chest, the dumb idiot's voice asking him about a distraction. Killer knew what distraction meant. He wanted that.

He faded out a bit after that, but damn if he didn't know he was in good hands. Good, nice hands, which held him right back, surrounded by a voice that knew what it was talking about. He faded back in around the point that Hiphop directed him at the mirror. Killer was... a wreck. That gross black sludge was still clinging to his face, but the flush on his cheeks was glowing around it. His sweater had ridden up to expose his lower ribs and spine, showing off the glow in his shorts. He couldn't see his SOUL clearly with it so firmly in Hiphop's grip, but the translucent slick in barbershop colors dripping down his arm was a dead giveaway.

The desire to stab was being burned away from the inside, heat and need flushing his system as he was consumed by the pervasive need to be touched: a need that Hiphop seemed all too eager to provide, the glint of a predatory delight reflecting back at him from the mirror.

"see how nice you're being for me? how good?" Hiphop sounded far too satisfied with himself, the freexp bastard. Killer squeezed at Hiphop's wrist, feeling his own slick slide over his fingers. That predatory glint intensified in the dancetale monster's eyelights, and he nibbled at Killer's shoulder, leaving shallow aches that seemed to rip more and more of his negativity apart. Killer felt a warm bulge pressed and rubbed into his sacrum, the fabric of Hiphop's pants dragging unfairly over his foramen ridges while the heat of his clothed magic sent sparks up his spine.

Killer tried not to squirm, not to give Hiphop the satisfaction of knowing just how affected he was by such simple attention. Killer had to see his failure play out in front of him thanks to the ill-placed mirror, had to admit to himself that unassuming Hiphop was driving him to a very different kind of madness, and Killer _liked it_.

Pressure and stretching in Killer's ass intensified, and Killer finally registered that Hiphop had been fingering him (rather nicely, the prick) for a few minutes. Now those fingers were curling just right, hooking over bundles of oversensitive mana lines that had settled in his inner walls. Every little drag pulled away more of Killer's tension. He felt himself going fuzzy at the edges.

"yeah... just like that" Hiphop murmured in a voice he had no right to make sound so god damn intoxicating. "you've been doing great for me. i'm so proud of you. you look amazing. love you like this..."

Killer heard himself whimper. He couldn't watch himself be torn apart so lovingly anymore, closing his sockets and leaning back. The love, the affection, the raw pleasure being rubbed into him, the very fact Hiphop had stuck with him through what had to have been a bad trip, Killer was going to-

Hiphop stopped, pulling out of Killer and slowing his heavy petting to something light and teasing. Killer squirmed, trying to finish himself to no avail. He could barely hear the whispers of his darker programming anymore, the sound of his own need drowning everything else out, the feeling of his own heat burning away his tension. He couldn't tell what was damp for what reason. Was he crying? Was he oozing? Was he sweating? Did it even matter by this point.

It probably didn't. He was safe. He was home. He had someone who loved him holding him close (even if that someone kept seducing his cats away).

Who was Killer kidding, he didn't care. He loved the prickly asshole and his smug grin and his sweet voice.

...and his fat dick, oh- "fuck-!!" Killer felt every inch of Hiphop's shaft as it slid inside him, stretching him open and adding pressure to his pelvis. A low, rumbling chuckle that Killer could feel in his own ribs resounded, echoing in his head like static, which was only magnified with every stroke Hiphop added to Killer's own dick, burning affection into his summoned flesh and exposed SOUL like a white hot iron.

"how you feel, babe?"

Killer felt fucking amazing, thanks: amazing, loved, full, warm. He felt a lot of things, and for once none of them were 'stabby'. Stupidly, all Killer could quite articulate was, "yeah..." his voice hoarse like he had been screaming even though he was sure he'd barely made a sound. Stupid voice not making the words to tell Hiphop how he felt.

"yeah?" Hiphop echoed, nuzzling into the place between Killer's shoulder blades.

"love you too." Yeah. that. That's more like words. When Killer finally blinked his eyes back open, he could see a bright, deep azure blazing brilliantly across Hiphop's face in the mirror's reflection. He felt his own smile before he saw it, raw and open and pleased in that soft way one could be pleased without feeling the numbers go up.

"you asshole," Hiphop grumbled, hiding his face in Killer's shoulder. Before Killer could retort, Hiphop started thrusting, slow and languid and sweet. Killer bit back a moan, letting himself ragdoll save for the involuntary curl in his toes. Hiphop was petting him, loving on him, inside and out, and Killer wanted to enjoy every fucking second of it.

Killer started rolling his hips, trying to help them both along. Hiphop found his rhythm, working with him, changing the speed on occasion to keep them both in the moment. Killer felt as much as heard Hiphop's breathing grow heavy, ragged, desperate. A sweet, musical note sounded, heralding Hiphop's climax before Killer felt his magic fill him.

Hiphop's hand squeezed down on Killer's SOUL in that same moment, pushing him over the edge too.

Sweetly, softly, the motions gradually slowed, but Hiphop didn't pull out. He stayed there, soaking up Killer's heat and returning his own as both of their breathing evened out to contented purring.

And Killer felt safe, his SOUL still held secure in Hiphop's loose fist, his fingers twitching in weak circles, refusing to let go even in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: I didnt know what to call this so enjoy the meme
> 
> Alternative Title: Where Hiphop gets to make a scary murder boi feel soft nice good things and that gets him off more than the sex to be honest


	21. Day 20: The First Day of the Rest of His Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Noncon/dubcon | Foodplay | Creampie  
>  **Kinks:** Heavy Petting; Fingering; Sounding; Omorashi; Tentacles; Belly Rubs; Toys; Kissing  
>  **Pairing:** Dreammare (Dream/Nightmare)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; yandere; dismemberment  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read the tags and warnings =)
> 
> the prequel to this was on [Day 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65399044) if you havent read that yet =)

Nightmare had been fading in and out of consciousness for only fuck knew how long. He had vague memories of a mask with a hooked beak; the scent of unspoken apology; a pricking sensation in his spine; a dull ache in his shoulder blades, his arms, his legs.

When Nightmare came to, he was laying on his front, feeling both oddly light and oddly heavy. He was supported expertly by a number of cushions, along with a sort of sling that went across his chest just right, giving him room to breathe. The blindfold was gone, and even the dim light of the room filtering around him made his eyelights spasm and ache, sending a painful throb echoing through the rest of his skull.

Nightmare instinctively shut his sockets again, trying to bring his hands up to cover his face protectively. He half expected them to be pulled taunt, bound in some form or other. He expected to feel resistance, a reminder he was trapped. Instead, he felt... nothing. His hands never made it to his face, but there was nothing in the way, either.

It took a moment for Nightmare to realize what that could possibly mean.

Fighting down panic, Nightmare blinked and squinted and fought to make his sight adjust until he could look at himself. He never quite got the nerve to do it before he heard the door open behind him, light flooding the room to blind him again.

" _What perfect timing~_ " Came Dream's voice. " _We had just gotten your new recliner finished!_ "

Nightmare was too busy fighting the urge to hyperventilate to really process the meaning of those words. Before he knew it, Nightmare was being picked up by those familiar, possessive hands, supported by the underside of his pelvis and the narrow strip between his wings.

Correction: Between where his wings _used to be._

They were gone. Nightmare's wings were _gone, again_. He bit back a sob, bones rattling. It wasn't even that it hurt; he barely felt any pain at all. His _wings_ were _gone_ -

Dream sat down, propping Nightmare up in his lap, cradled in the crook of his arm at an angle. He shushed him, soft, soothing, taunting as the gentle fingers that wiped his useless tears. " _It is alright, darling. You do not need them right now, anyway. I will be all you need._ " He kissed him, gentle, triumphant, oozing a sick satisfaction that Nightmare might have at least tried to devour if he had been able.

_Oh, fuck, how was he going to eat without-_

Just the realization must have reminded Nightmare's system of how empty it was. His lumbar spine groaned, tensing to grind together in the closest thing to a stomach growl he could manage. His soul trembled and squeezed in on itself almost painfully.

" _Hungry?_ " Dream (in a twisted dichotomy of fortune) read him like a well worn book. He tilted Nightmare's chin up, thumbing at his teeth as a number of golden tentacles reared up around them. Dream carefully forced Nightmare's clenched teeth open, tender caresses coaxing him to relax his jaw, then leveraged it wider.

Nightmare only had a moment to yelp a half hearted protest before a warm, slimy root wormed its way into his mouth, tapered thin at the tip and getting thicker as it went down his throat. Nightmare tried to rear back, blinded and handicapped as he was, but the damn thing just grew down into him, growing branch offs that tangled with his tongue and held it fast against it. Nightmare tried to curse, tried to swear, tried to spit it out, but to no avail.

Nourishing emotion was forced into his system: a twisted kind of love; a broken, uncompromising positivity; a false calm; aimless pleasure. Nightmare couldn't suppress the whimper as he was fed, filled, with such disgusting nurishment. He wasn't used to such things, spending so long subsisting on negativity. He could feel his body reject them, syphoning only a small portion that he could digest before filtering the rest downward, trying to expel the uselessness of it all. The whole unfamiliar process made Nightmare feel bloated, heavy, tired.

Dream cooed, settling a soft hand on the false flesh that had built up around Nightmare's lumbar, stroking over the bubble of ecto that now housed the unused nutrients that Nightmare's system could do nothing with. " _Oh, brother... Look at this, how wasteful. You poor thing._ " He continued to rub the tender softness, sending sparks of pleasure and comfort through every little touch, every stroke and motion, etching it into the temporary skin. Nightmare tried to move away from it, but he had no leverage left-

_He had no-_

Nightmare opened his eyes, blinking away tears as he looked down at himself. His legs were gone. Hell, his _arms_ were gone. Nightmare had been stripped of everything but his core. He had no weapons left. He was helpless.

The wailing sob that left him couldn't be entirely muffled by the mass in his mouth, moisture turning it into a gurgle.

Dream kissed his neck, giving tiny little nibbles that just barely made his fangs scratch into his bones. " _You haven't had a good meal in so long, but worry not. I will feed you like this every day, for the rest of your life._ "

Nightmare shuddered, as much from the threat of repeated humiliation as from the building pressure in his magic and soul. His pseudoflesh grew down more, settling in his pelvis and finally making the necessary exit to give him release.

" _Oh? What is this?_ " One of Dream's tendrils probed at Nightmare's soft lower lips, sending a different kind of shiver up his spine. As much as he hated that part of himself, it was terribly sensitive. The fact it was so sensitive almost made Nightmare hate it more, every little bit of attention causing his face to flush with a burning shame. Dream's tendrils avoided the usual, dripping slit, however, and instead delicately tickled the smaller exit, exacerbating the tingling sensation that heralded release. " _What could you be thinking, making one of these? You don't need it. If you expel all my positivity, you'll never learn to absorb it properly..._ "

Nightmare squirmed, trying to get away from the near ticklish prods from the tendril. The pressure in him was building, and with it, so was the pleasure that Dream kept pumping into his system.

Dream rummaged around in his clothes, before pulling out a long, thin rod, thrumming faintly with his distinctive golden magic. " _Here. This will help you practice._ " He reached down, pressing the tip of the rod to Nightmare's smallest hole. The sensation as it breached him, filling him, burned at first, only to be quickly replaced by pressure, and overshadowed by pleasure. The damn thing buzzed faintly with power, just enough to keep Nightmare's nerves alight, sensitive.

Still, Nightmare was fed more, his middle swelling with Dream's positivity, liquified and desperate to be let free.

The amount of slick dripping out from Nightmare's slit was beginning to make him itch. He had trouble keeping his hips still, the small bundle of tender nerves throbbing dull and needy. He only hoped Dream didn't notice.

His hopes were dashed almost immediately: Dream's hand drifted up to thumb, gentle and slow, at his clit, sending a useless dull rush through him. " _Is that not better? Now you have no worries of making a mess of yourself. I told you, I have you._ " The last was whispered with such fervent reverence, such devotion, Nightmare could almost pretend it was real. Gentle hands rubbed loving little circles into his pseudoflesh, while a deep voice murmured softly against his acoustic meatus between heated kisses and nibbles to his neck. A tendril was in his mouth, pumping every possible speck of positivity and pleasure into him.

It was almost... nice.

If only, if only: Nightmare felt tears fall down his cheek. He was well aware that it was merely the effects of his brother's power. Illusory bliss was no more genuine for the joy of it. He was still a prisoner, a toy for Dream to enjoy.

How ironic that the guardian of positivity likely could not feel or know it for himself, lost in a twisted, grotesque obsession.

" _And how could I forget to satisfy the hunger of your other mouth,_ " Dream scolded himself jokingly. Tendrils lifted Nightmare up, and after a rustle of fabric below him, he was lowered back down slowly. He felt the first prod of something thick at his pussy, and couldn't suppress the muffled yelp. He tried bucking, squirming, thrashing, but he had no leverage, and the many tentacles holding him had little issue keeping him still and steady in his descent.

Nightmare was filled, the stretch lighting up his system and finally ripping an orgasm out of him.

Dream groaned low in his ear. " _You hold me so sweetly, my darling Nightmare. I adore how you flutter around me. You always feel so good...._ "

Nightmare couldn't help the soft spasm that racked his body at the word good.

Sadistic glee dripped from Dream's every touch immediately. " _Oh, brother dearest, do you like being told what a **good boy** you are that much?_"

The words chipped at the mental wall Nightmare had just been beginning to construct.

" _You are good, and wonderful, and handsome,_ " Dream assured as he began to thrust. " _You make the multiverse worth living in. You are my everything, the greatest gift I could have ever been given._ "

Nightmare couldn't fight anymore. Why couldn't he have heard those words from another voice, in another time? The unfairness of it was hysterical, and just as overwhelming as the pressure and pleasure making his head fog up and his body heavy.

Dream's low, haunting voice continued to assault him, his warm breath battering against his neck in pants of effort. Dream was starting to quicken his pace, rolling his hips into Nightmare with reckless abandon, intent on hammering out another orgasm. " _I love you. I love you. I will never let you g-_ " Dream never quite finished his sentence, the last word interrupted by a moan as he came, filling Nightmare up with his possessive magic. Nightmare came around him, feeling the heat and damp welcomed unwillingly into his body.

" _You are perfect, exactly like this, in my arms..._ " Dream gasped, nuzzling Nightmare's skull between groans and kisses. His hands were all over him: rubbing his bloated middle; teasing his clit; teasing his ribs; wiping away his tears, only to smear them messily over his sweaty bones. Nightmare's whole body was afire, the pleasure encroaching on pain from its sheer intensity and pervasiveness.

All at once, Dream went still, turning to look at the door with the closest thing to irritation he had ever shown in Nightmare's presence. " _How... inconvenient._ " He mumbled, lifting Nightmare off his dick and walking him over to a sort of soft, padded podium that Nightmare had yet to notice.

Gently, reverently, Dream set Nightmare upright on the podium, securing his pelvis with padding that fit into his empty hip sockets, and securing his ribs with padding that fit into his empty shoulder sockets. When Nightmare managed to focus his sight and looked down, it almost appeared as if he had his limbs again, sitting regally on a throne of soft pillows, except his limbs were merely fixtures of the chair that held his core in place with his own body's design. Night tried squirming, but he was secured fast, and no amount of thrashing would dislodge him.

" _I have business to tend to, but you must stay here for now and rest,_ " Dream explained, fixing his clothes and brushing himself off. " _Do not fear, for I came prepared with a few bits of entertainment to amuse you in my absence._ " He pulled out a sort of belt, which was affixed with an oversized bead. With a smirk that could cut through iron, Dream knelt down, spread Nightmare's soaked folds, and pressed the little bead onto his clit, wrapping the belt around his ilia and securing it fast in place. A wire was then threaded to the nearest outlet and plugged in.

Immediately, the little bullet vibe sprang to life, assaulting Nightmare's overstimulated system and pulling yet another orgasm out of him.

" _Oh, Nightmare..._ " Dream breathed, cupping his face as he finally, finally pulled the root out of his mouth- " _You look so amazing like this, it is agony of the highest order to leave you..._ " -only to replace it with his tongue, kissing Nightmare deeply and devouring the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Then Dream pulled himself away and left. He left Nightmare, overful, still stuffed with a sounding rod, Dream's cum dripping out of him, with a toy that tormented his clit at the perfect frequency to keep him just on the edge of his next release without any other stimulation. The lights were dimmed, the room going quiet save for the buzzing of the toys.

Nightmare bit back another sob, trembling in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falsi is sorry.  
> Dream is Not.


	22. Day 21: Showing Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Size difference | Exhibitionism/voyeurism | Impact play  
>  **Kinks:** Sounding, Sacrum Lacing, Oral, Blindfolds, Control, BDSM, Empathic Bonds  
>  **Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; accidental flashing; wardrobe malfunction  
>  **Length in Words:** ~5.6k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side warning for awkward secondhand embarrassment

Red flipped the page of his dummy magazine (because he was absolutely not actually reading Martha Sterwert and nobody would believe the dumb schmuck who tried to convince anyone otherwise), waiting for the last few seconds of the allotted time to tick away. He wasn't at all irritated when the timer went off while he was halfway through skimming the article about tomato souffles. Slamming the magazine shut, Red stood up. "that's it, times up, meatbags. put yer binkies down 'n man up."

The classroom of teenagers all jumped in unison, necks snapping in tandem to look at him before little limbs scrambled to clean up their experiments. In seconds, everyone was standing nicely next to appropriately colored, partially smoking beakers, bunsen burners turned off, and eyes at fearful attention... save for Kevin and his reluctant lab partner, who were still squabbling quietly over a sample tray of slime.

"We have to-" Sam whimpered, little hamster fingers clinging to the glass.

"No, idiot, we gotta hide it!" Kevin hissed, trying to rip it from his clutches. It was almost funny, seeing such a tall, lanky guy bent nearly double to be at eye level with the monster partner he got stuck with (as if Red didn't know they were damn chummy when no one was looking).

Red made his way down the center of the room, stalking closer to the kids that didn't seem to realize they were being watched. When he was right behind them, he took a deep breath, reaching his voice down as low as it would go without hurting himself. "'n whaddiya think yer doin', punks?"

Keven and Sam both jumped, each losing their hold of the little sample at the same time, sending the slime flying.

Red always considered himself good at dodging, but his success always hinged on sensing the intent of the strikes and anticipating his opponent's movements in advance. So when the accidental, intentless projectile was flung at Red's face from such close range, Red didn't have the chance to get out of the way before the slime flew right into his eye socket.

Red reared back, snarling, his LV sparking in mindless fury. He clamped down hard on the reflex to retaliate, biting into his own hand to help distract himself from one discomfort with another. He refused to hurt those kids. He _refused_.

Red's vision fuzzed out, a blur. He felt cutting tightness on almost all his bones at once, until he heard the rip of fabric, cutting through the rush of his magic in his skull like scissors through paper, leaving only silence in its wake. Red ripped his hand from his teeth, groaning as he rubbed at his assaulted socket, blinking to get his vision back.

All the kids were staring up at him.

Did. Did the room get smaller..?

Red looked down at himself. The ground was definitely further away, and with it, the shreds of his clothes, torn apart at the seams like so much confetti. Red's scarred bones stood bare in the light.

"...this," Red said evenly, reaching down for the largest bit of his clothes he had left to pull up and hide his pelvis behind, "is why we wear goggles."

* * *

Red had had to make a makeshift loincloth out of leftover labcoats, tying them around his hips and calmly continuing the lesson. More than one of the kids had asked about his scars, which ended up being such a distraction he just halted everything to do a show and tell just to get them to shut up. He was lucky it was last period and he could make a break for it as soon as the bell rang.

Deciding he would rather risk being caught teleporting than risk Susan seeing him shirtless, Red locked the classroom from the inside once it was empty and shortcut home, the tiny bundle of his ruined clothes tucked safely to his chest, shoes dangling from his fingertips.

He liked that shirt. He liked those shoes. Hell, he liked those pants. And more importantly, _Dance and Lust_ liked them. Damn it.

Sighing, Red lumbered with his rather awkward new body into the bedroom, ducking under the head jamb. His skull just barely kept from scratching the popcorn ceiling, but only because Red had shit posture and kept himself hunched down on instinct. He scowled down at the bed, then sat down and lay back to try and calm himself. His feet hung off the end of the bed, leaving him oddly cold.

Red was not going to panic. He was not going to panic. Whatever was in his socket had been completely absorbed. There wasn't even anything left to clean. He just had to calm down, relax, and think.

His pets were going to be furious. All those nice clothes he couldn't even wear anymore. The only thing spared from his sudden growth had been his collar. Fuck.

Red shook his head. He had to think about taking care of himself. He had to calm down. Before he could think much further than that, Red felt the displacement of air in the other room, felt first Lust, then Dance arrived home.

There was no more time. Red had to face the music.

* * *

Lust sat on the couch, pulling off his boots with a relieved sigh. He only had the one off when Dance stepped in.

"welcome home, baby!"

Dance was tense, head turned to stare at the bedroom door. "welcome home..." he mumbled, taking first one step, then another, towards the open door in a distracted daze. Lust pulled off his other boot before following.

"red?!"

Lust peeked around Dance, covering his teeth. On their bed was a naked skeleton who had to be eight feet tall. The sheer size of the man was distracting, but Lust recognised those scars anywhere, his fingertips tingling with the memory of their touch under his hand.

Red smiled that smile he made when he was trying to hide his nerves, sweat slicking down his chalky ivory, making him sparkle. "heya, guys. so, heh, funny story-"

"get dressed," dance said, voice uncompromising iron. 

"uh..."

"get up, get dressed. we have a party to get to."

Lust gasped, hugging Dance from behind as he was overcome with excitement. The only party going on tonight was one of Grillby's kinky get-togethers.

Taking Red there while he was this... _massive_... Lust was shivering just thinking about it.

"uh, i'd- i'd love t', but-"

"but what?" Dance demanded. 

Red was sweating significantly harder. "uh... none o' my cloths 'r gonna fit me now..?"

Dance considered that a moment. "then i guess we'll have to improvise..." he went rummaging in the closet, purposeful, majestic.

Lust would have been swooning over Dance if he wasn't so drawn to Red's new, supersized lap. Lust climbed up and snuggled under Red's arm, running his hands over Red's thick, powerful ribs, his lovely sternum, tracing the marks he knew so intimately all over again, appreciating them, appreciating the man who bore them. Red shivered against him, flushed in the face and joints. "how do you feel, sweetheart? does it hurt anywhere?" Lust kissed down his ribs, one by one on the side he snuggled closer to.

"nah, i-" Red's voice jumped, hitting a slightly higher register. "'m fine. just. bigger?"

"ya know how it happened?" Lust found a tiny nick he never noticed before, so terribly small even on Red's larger body that it was likely too thin to see with the naked eye normally. It traveled down from one of his ribs to the tip of his xiphoid process. Lust followed it with the distal tip of his middle finger, purring at the hitch in Red's breathing, at the spark of light that poured from the fracture at his touch. His sweetheart was a work of art. Lust loved him so much.

Red's arm had curled around to cradle Lust closer. His large, wonderful claws tightened their grip on Lust's hip, trembling like the rest of him. "a-accident." He sounded breathless already, ribcage expanding and contracting faster, more irregularly. _Cute_. Everything about Red was wonderful. "in th' lab at th' school. stupid brat threw somethin' in my skull 'n it mixed weird. gonna have t' wait it out..."

Lust was a terrible person, being so god damn aroused by his boyfriend's inconvenience.

"this'll work," Dance decided aloud, coming out of the closet. He had found Lust's old pareo, a soft wrap he'd used on some of his bad days to answer the door for the Postmates' guy. "this and a sheet for a cloak, that'll get ya in and out just fine."

Lust looked up at Red's pinkened face. He eyed the fabric in Dance's hand, sweat sliding down in a prominent stream along his temples. "if- if that's what ya want, kitten..."

"if you're really not comfortable," Lust interjected, "we can run out and pick you up some new clothes-"

"nah- nah, i-" Red sighed, avoiding looking either one of them in the face. "fuck. it's just god damn humiliatin's, all. i'mma look a damn fool."

"you're gonna look amazing, and i'm gonna show off to everyone what we have and they don't," Dance said firmly, setting the pareo aside and climbing up to kneel on Red's other side, gripping his collar and giving it a tug. "you have any idea how good you look, ya bastard? i can't wait to rub it in that old flame's face that i have you _and_ lust, and he doesn't have shit."

Red smirked, the sharpened edges softening in a few heartbeats to a gentle fondness. "whatever ya want." That was Red, eager to please, eager to be whatever they needed him to be, wanted him to be. What Lust wouldn't give to make Red feel the way he made Lust feel, so cared for, appreciated, loved, indulged.

"and when we get home..." Dance mumbled, flushed himself at this point, sparkling sapphire spread like a color-shifted sunrise across his face. He interrupted himself by leaning in for a kiss, muffling him and Red both. "...gonna fuck the size right out of you."

Lust hadn't seen Dance this 'excited' in a while. His voice had gone deeper, his eyelights sharp as a tack pinning Red to the bed beneath him. Red shivered, swallowing thick and audible. "'kay."

* * *

Red followed behind Dance and Lust into the strip club, hunching himself down to fit through the doors. He felt unusually exposed, air rushing between his legs and under both the wrap at his hip and the sheet hiding the rest of him. Being out in public with only two thin, airy scraps of fabric to protect his modesty was a new experience that he probably wouldn't have liked if it was not for the excitement and arousal that it inspired in his pets.

The club was better lit than usual, fancy, expensive-looking hanging lights in a variety of colors dangling from the steel beams that held up the ceiling. Like most other such parties, the guests were in an assortment of casual wear and overly revealing pieces that were clearly designed for intimacy as opposed to modesty or defense. Dance always wore his everyday clothes to these things, and usually so did Red.

Today, though, he was obviously in the latter category.

Lust reached under the sheet and found Red's hand, threading their fingers together. "this is gonna be so much fun~!" His words heralded a gentle wave of soft emotions, the kind that syphoned the tension out of Red like a bloodletting.

Dance's emotions spiked in response: _excitement, malicious glee_ , and something warmer, softer, more feral and untamed. "yup." He popped the 'p' with a lazy flare, looking around the room before gesturing with his thumb. "looks like that corner is available. c'mon."

Red stayed in step alongside Lust as Dance led the way, pretending to ignore the attention their group was getting from the other partygoers. Red didn't like the predatory intent roiling just under the surface, lapping at the walls inconspicuously. He squeezed Lust's hand a little tighter, swearing a silent vow to keep his pets safe. They were there to have fun and unwind, and Red wasn't going to let any unscrupulous fuck-drunk bastards get in the way of that.

Dance stopped in front of a corner couch, black and silky looking with its plush cushions. He smiled over his shoulder at Red, patting the back of the couch before sitting down. "ok. colors?"

"orange," Lust purred at the same time Red mumbled it.

Dance crooked a finger, coaxing Lust into his lap. Lust snuggled in, slotting with a satisfying finality against Dance's body. Red always liked seeing them together ( _safe, happy, cared for_ , proof he was doing a damn good job), and tonight was no exception. They kissed, deep and slow, humming in harmony with their _delight_. The feedback of affection coming to Red in stereo made him dizzy.

The soft peel of a familiar bell snapped Red out of his daze. "hey. asshole. get over here and sit down?" Dance pat the couch again.

Red shook himself, taking a deep breath before settling next to his pets. As he reclined, the shift of the thin fabric against Red's bones reminded him of how very exposed he was. He was just getting used to his new position when Dance's hand tugged at the sheet.

"gonna take this off anytime soon?"

Red considered it. "if ya want me t'..." Red stood back up, shivering as the air currents wove between his bare legs, tickling his pelvis. He pulled the sheet off of him, rolling it up before sitting back down in nothing but the tiny wrap. He felt the heaviness of so many eyes on his bones, dripping in an indistinguishable intent. The predatory aura magnified, flaring throughout the room, making Red tense.

Dance made a low, predatory noise of his own, radiating _satisfaction_ that clawed down Red's spine before going back up again to settle in the scar on his arm, burning there in an echo of its maker's magic. "better," Dance breathed, the praise warming Red from the anxious chill in the room.

Lust began to purr louder. "much~"

Red gave the rest of the room a casual once over. Still, a great many of the other party goers were watching them. Smiles, flushed faces, steely, covetous glints to their gazes: it was very clear that they had noticed how great Red's pets were, and wanted them for themselves. Red smirked, letting it border on a sneer, and draped his arm around Dance's shoulders, looping around to settle his hand on Lust's. Let them look: Red could defend his pets naked with his arms behind his back.

Lust shifted, taking Red's wrist in hand and turning it so he could nuzzle his face into Red's claws, kissing at his carpals and metacarpals. Red fought down the rush of heat flaring in his bones, hoping he didn't start glowing like a badly snapped glowstick. Lust was flushed, purring louder as he squirmed in Dance's lap, sending wave after wave of soft, _affectionate_ emotion that was doing its damndest to distract Red from his vigil.

"lust," Dance said softly. "pick out something fun to do with red, ok?"

Lust perked up, _excitement_ flaring. He gave Red one last kiss against the knuckle of his index finger before reaching into Dance's hoodie pouch. Red knew the two of them had stashed a few toys in there to entertain themselves with before they left, but he hadn't considered the idea that he would be part of the game this time. Red usually supervised.

Lust pulled out a long strip of thick black fabric, and another, longer strip of blue ribbon. He smiled, wiggling his brow ridges, and pulled out a long, but still unobtrusive metal rod, slender save for the occasional bumpy ridge, with a prominent pearl-like topper. A vicious pulse of sadistic glee from Dance answered Lust's unspoken, hesitant _excitement_ , and they both turned to look at Red with visible _eagerness_.

"uh..?"

"blindfold, sounding, lacing." Dance said quietly. "color?"

Red looked at the toys, looked at his pets faces, looked at the crowd. He supposed as long as they stayed close until they were done, it was fine. His reaction time was pretty good, and he didn't need to see to fight. "stay close?"

"i think we can agree to that~" Lust purred, licking the sounding rod.

"then, uh.... orange?"

Lust climbed off Dance's lap and into Red's. "let's get you more in the mood, then, ok?" He had to stand up on his knees to reach, but Lust started by putting the blindfold around Red's sockets. Red could feel the heat of his circulated breathing batter at his face, sweetness and the sense of home flavoring the air around them. The room flared again with that roiling undercurrent of potential predation, but Red paid it no mind, instead putting his hands on Lust's hips, feeling the unnatural heat of him. The curve of his iliac crests feeling so much smaller in his larger hands, Red was more sure than ever that he could protect his pet.

"comfortable?" Lust asked, already starting to sound a little breathless. 

"so far so good," Red answered.

"good~" Lust stole a surprise kiss, gentle and deep and slow, the kind that made all the softer feelings in his soul swell, reverbing back at Red like a bludgeon to the dick. Red didn't quite manage to bite back the noise it inspired.

Wow, it was suddenly hot in there. Maybe dressing light had been a good idea, after all.

At their side, Dance let out a shaky breath, a soft, startled little, "fuck," escaping him.

Lust's hands (unmistakable in their _warmth_ and _gentleness_ , their _affection_ , their insistence on dragging the pleasure out of his bones in the most brutal and emotionally impactful ways possible) started to roam Red's body, feeling smaller compared to his cheek, his chest, his shoulders. Red shivered as they began mapping his scars all over again, worrying away the sharper edges by sheer force of will. The warmth soaked deep into Red's marrow, filling him as surely as anything could be filled, stoking a fire he was always surprised could even be set alight inside him.

"there... feel good, sweetheart?" Lust murmured, leaving little butterfly kisses as his fingertips carved Red open with their feather-light touch. "you look good..."

Red answered with a low hum, pulling Lust a little closer. How could he not feel good when both of his pets were so _calm_ , so sure in their safety, and within arms reach. Red pulled one claw off Lust to reach for Dance, who met him halfway with his own familiar grip. Dance started feeling Red's metacarpals, his phalanges, an _excited_ warmth spreading through their bond.

Lust sat down on Red's lap, his hands sliding to settle on Red's pelvis, smoothing over his iliac crests, his thumbs rubbing little circles in his ala. "gonna make your magic for me? pretty please~?"

Red would do damn near anything for his sweetheart. He tensed, focusing. Making a dick was still hard, and he wasn't used to doing it without using his own hands as a guide. Lust's fingers dipped into the magic that had pooled in Red's pelvis, little coaxing flutters helping him along. Red felt the moment the construct snapped into place, solidifying as an extension of himself. Both Lust and Dance growled, deep rumbling expressions of _approval_ and _delight_. Again, the predatory aura permeating the room surged, but no one came closer.

His dick felt bigger than usual. Lust was quick to take hold of it, removing the final scrap of cloth attempting to defend his decency so nothing was in his way. He started stroking lovingly up and down its length, leaning down to kiss the tip. Red sank back further into the soft plush of the couch, gritting his teeth against the groan that wanted to be set free. Lust used his tongue at the very tip, teasing and abusing the opening there. Red's hips quivered, threatening to buck even when held fast by Red's iron will. Lust pulled his tongue away, only to slowly ease the sounding rod in to replace it. Red's magic throbbed, hot, already aching from the building pressure.

Next, Lust slid off Red's lap to the side, holding his hand and pulling gently. "ok, sweetheart, come lay in my lap, face down, ok?" Red turned his head towards the sound of his pet's voice, and, ignoring the way his magic pulsed and demanded to be touched, moved onto his hands and knees until Lust could guide him into place.

Red found himself settled against a softness that burned with its own flushed heat, the scent of sweetness and home overpowering. He felt Lust hook his legs over Red's shoulders, his socked feet stroking over the spines of Red's vertebrae. Lust's hands stroked and pet over his skull, wiping away the accumulating sweat and tracing along the cracks and fissures that were left behind from his days fighting, filling them up with _warmth_ and _affection_ that Red found himself unable to defend against.

"there... like that..." Lust murmured, "lay flat and hold onto me."

Red lowered the rest of his body, stretching out his legs. His summoned dick found the soft couch ticklish, the friction sending little tingling waves through him. He couldn't quite keep from squirming, gyrating to generate more.

A cool hand settled on Red's sacrum. "hey. no. hold still," Dance ordered. Those deft fingers made figure-eight patterns around his foramen, suggesting what was to come with electric gentleness. Dance must have been standing beside the couch now, having gotten up when Red moved. "hold still so i can do this."

"sure," Red mumbled, relaxing even more when he felt someone (Dance most likely) sliding pillows under his lumbar for support. The soft friction of the cushions on such a sensitive part of himself was somewhat distracting, but not as much as the same plush on his ecto. Holding still became Red's greatest challenge. He curled his arms around Lust, hoping he wasn't squeezing too tightly.

Lust simply purred, no sign of any change besides a soft increase in his overall _happiness_ (which as far as Red was concerned was how it should always be).

Dance drew his hand back leaving Red a moment to breath, to gather himself. He had an idea of what was coming.

* * *

Dance admired the sight before him. Red was stretched out along the couch (which was thankfully long enough to accommodate him, big furniture was great), his head snuggled into the midriff Lust had summoned (likely for the express purpose of being a soft, comfortable cushion). Lust had hooked his legs over Red's shoulders, curling around his skull, using his feet to stroke lazily up and down the line of Red's spine. Red was holding onto Lust with both arms, like a pillow, like a comfort object, something grounding to help him relax. Underneath the swell of his growing arousal, Red was a bundle of _protectiveness_ and _nerves_ , but Dance was ready to rip that out of him nice and slow for everyone to see.

Dance took a moment to glance around the room. The eyes that had been on Red since they walked in were wide and hungry, some of the other partygoers pacing around a sort of perimeter, wondering and waiting to see if this was a private game or one open to new players. Too bad for them, Red and Lust were 'Display Only'. Dance shot Grillby, the hungriest of them all, a wide, toothy smile, quietly reveling in the flare it earned him before turning back to his datemates.

Dance pulled up his hood, cracking his neck and stretching his limbs. He was about to perform.

It started with the ribbon. It was his color, a vivid deep blue that matched his pullover almost exactly. He stretched it between his hands, admiring the length of it, before letting one end dangle down to brush over Red's bones, dragging it up his sacrum. Red flinched, pelvis trembling, squirming despite what Dance was sure were his best efforts to remain still. His joints were flushed that telling pink color, the light bouncing off the blue ribbon to make a purple shimmer.

Dance loved how that worked out.

Dance pulled the ribbon back, twisting the end and licking it to make it easier to work with. He decided to be nice, starting with the larger foramen higher up on Red's sacrum. He slowly, carefully eased the ribbon through the hole, watching in delight as the bone there flushed an angry, flustered crimson. Red cursed, the sound muffled but unmistakable.

This was so _hot_.

Dance spared a moment to look up at Lust. His other boyfriend was flushed and glowing all on his own, pretty vivid purples flaring from his own joints as he cuddled and soothed Red. Dance loved the way Lust's chest heaved, how his sweat glittered on his skull. If Dance was any judge (no pun intended), Lust looked his very best when he was a flustered mess, eyelights hazy and vaguely heart shaped.

(He didn't look half bad when he was in a feral horny rage either, but that's not fair to compare.)

Dance turned back to Red, reaching into his pelvic inlet, through the lingering magic still gathered there, to pull the end of the ribbon through and then back up the parallel foramen. He could feel the rush of Red's magic running around and through his arm, feel the surge of _pleasure_ and _arousal_ , so overwhelming it made spots light up in his vision.

Red's soft, ragged little whimper was completely understandable. It was exactly what Dance wanted.

Dance continued along in that same vein, weaving the ribbon in and out and in and out again, watching as Red's magic shifted from pinks, to reds, to reds and golds, until finally, at the penultimate foramen, the colors blue-shifted all the way to the lovely emerald that Dance so coveted the sight of. Red's soft, gritted groans and expletives became unfiltered moaning, his body going limp and squirming, fucking himself uselessly on Dance's forearm.

Dance shushed him, letting go of the ribbon end to let it dangle so he had a free hand to stroke soothingly up and down Red's leg. "that's right, kitten, good job. we gotcha..."

Dance could feel the dramatic shift in the crowd. Everyone was getting to see how fucking sexy his boyfriend was, and _nobody got to touch him_. This was Dance's, his and Lust's, and he wanted everyone to know what he had and they didn't because they were stupid and didn't get to him fast enough.

Dance was kind of petty like that. He shifted to make his bell ring sweetly from around his neck, unashamed of the smug grin that split his face as he saw the lightshow that flared in response, gold and ruby and emerald light sparking and flashing from Red's joints and scars, shifting like sunlight viewed from underwater, like the southern lights streaking across the polar skies.

"you're doing great, sweetheart," Lust purred, open want in his voice.

Dance laced the ribbon through the last of Red's foramen, and pulled his arm out of his boyfriend's pelvis. Red shuddered, moaned low and ragged and anguished, tears starting to seep from under his blindfold. Dance could feel the tingling tremors of Red's aborted orgasm still running up and down his arm, the _love_ and _trust_ making his head fog up. He tied the ribbon into a pretty blue bow at Red's tailbone with trembling fingers, then brought his damp, stained sleeve up to his face to smell. The heavy scent of watermelon and winter, of crisp chills and protection and safety, hit Dance like a mace to the face. He flexed his sticky, damp fingers, looking down at Red as he held himself back from pouncing on him and biting the hell out of his pelvis and femurs.

Dance brought his hand down hard on Red's femur, only to bring it off immediately. The crack of bone against bone was sharp in the air. "on your knees," he said, pretending to ignore the spasm of light and emotion.

Red did as he was bid, shifting to his knees without moving his head or shoulders much (likely to avoid disturbing Lust). Dance rubbed over the spot he had struck, pleased, before pulling the pillows out from under Red and setting them aside. Dance was rather agile when he wanted to be, it was too easy to squirm under Red and settle on the other side, sitting so Red was kneeling over his lap. With the height difference between them now, Dance's head barely cleared Red's pretty, flushed pelvis, but he now had the best position to grip onto Red's rather large dick and stroke it. The poor thing twitched in his hands, Red's hips thrusting out to seek more friction, but Dance spanked his femurs again. "i said don't move, remember, kitten? hold still for me."

Red whined, but complied, reducing himself to useless trembling. "good kitten," Dance praised, giving those lovely hips a rewarding little lovebite. Something deep and hot in Dance squirmed in decadent glee at seeing his teeth marks in Red's bones, at hearting Red moan in _pleasure_ at the feel of his fangs inside him.

"lust, go ahead and let him give you some head." Dance figured it was only fair that Lust come first, after being so patient.

"fuck," Lust swore, alrady moving to get himself free. 'c'mon sweetheart, here, is that ok? you don't mind helping me out do y-" whatever else Lust might have been intending to say was lost in a few moans of his own. Like always, Red was enthusiastic when given direction.

Dance, meanwhile, continued to stroke and massage Red's shaft, listening to Lust babble and coo and sigh in rapture. Usually at this point Dance would be fucking Red into the cushions, but with how big he was now, their usual configuration wasn't going to work. This time, Dance would have to get a little more intimate.

But Lust first. Make his sweet, wonderful, smaller boyfriend cum, then fucking his giant boyfriend to the brink of death. There was an order to these things.

Dance felt Lust approaching his peak. He looked back at the crowd, catching sight of Grillby again. The elemental was clearly transfixed, gaze locked on Lust from his vantage point behind the bar. Dance smirked, sliding out from under Red to stride up to Lust's side, cupping his face in both hands and taking a deep, slow kiss. Dance made sure Lust felt every drop of his love as he came, enjoying every second of how he immediately clung to his hoodie, pulling him closer.

Lust was also his, in case anyone forgot. Dance was real fond of his sweet, gentle, amazing boyfriend who he made sure got all the affection in the word (unlike some people, not that Dance was naming any names).

Grillby was still watching when Dance stood back up from his stoop, licking his teeth. Sucker.

"ok, kitten, roll over," Dance ordered. Red made a soft noise, swallowing back the last of the cum that Lust had let down his false throat, then complied. It felt damn good to give an order and see it so willingly, eagerly obeyed. Having that control was a rush that Dance was never, ever going to tire of. He crawled between Red's legs, leaning his full (if negligible) weight on Red's dick and grinding his palm into it. Red's shaking intensified, and Dance could feel the sheer level of _arousal_ and _trust_ and _eagerness to please_ jolt so hard through him it made his teeth ache.

Still, better safe than sorry. "color?"

"o'nge," Red slurred, syllables blurred together like he was drunk. Lust rewarded him with kisses, unprompted.

Dance grinned wider, pulling his hand off of Red's dick to stir and prod the magic in his pelvis from the bottom, using two fingers to coax and guide. Soon he had Red's ass squeezing him, read to be worked open and abused. Red gasped and whimpered, legs twitching around Dance in waves.

When he knew Red was stretched enough fro him, Dance pulled out his own dick. He pushed his way inside Red, watching his face, watching the light glisten off his salivation, his tear streaks, glinting off his false tooth. Red mewled when Dance hilted, panting heavily, sending sparks of light and magic into the air.

Dance wasted no time. He started to piston into Red, doubling over as he finally gave himself the stimulation his agitated magic had been begging for all night. All eyes were on them, Dance could feel it: they wanted what he had, but they weren't going to get it. Those fucks had to watch as _Dance_ got to make Red cry the good kind of tears, as _Dance_ got to make him shine pretty colors, as _Dance_ got to call him a, "good, kitten, gonna come for me?"

Dance ripped out Red's sounding rod, only a little disappointed that all that delicious magic was wasted splattering all over Red's chest and spine. Dance filled him with his own release, shivering as for that one, brief moment, their wavelengths harmonized, singing with the sweet motiff if mutual trust and love.

When he got them all home, he'd get to hear that silent sound all over again.


	23. Day 22: Held Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Formal wear | Overstimulation | Sadomasochism  
>  **Kinks:** Voice, Crying, Voyerism, Medical Play, Scent, Kissing  
>  **Pairing:** KillerCream (Killer / Cross / Dream) (/Falsi [Sans!OC])  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Contains Plague Doctor; blood (or analogous); body horror (or analagous)  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.9k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is pretty cerebrally graphic so caution folks

"Wonderful: we have our tools, we have our patient, we have our assistant-"

"are the clothes really necessary?" Cross asked, looking up from his spot on the fainting couch, letting his mind forget what was in his lap.

Killer looked down at himself, gloved hands coming up to feel the mask covering half his face. His soul, for once, was completely heart shaped, inverted and more white than red where it floated in front of him. His eyelights deformed as his hidden smile seeped into them. That expression, coupled with the smart doctor's scrubs and coat, was unfair to everyone with eyes to see it. "i dunno, but i feel spiffy."

"Indeed: dress for the job you want, and all that," Falsi tittered, looking equally pleased (and not half bad himself). "This is a delicate and important procedure: one should always be properly equipped when handling volatile materials or eldritch artifacts."

" _Which category do I fall under, dear doctor?_ " Dream asked, musical little voice soft and intoxicating, even from where it was partially muffled in Cross' leg. Cross was trying very, very hard not to think about what was in his lap.

Falsi settled Dream with an expression of exaggerated exasperation and fondness, his tone rueful, playfully mocking. "Given our histories, I would say both."

Dream giggled, his wings shifting from a nervous orange to his delighted honey gold, soft and comforting as a sunrise.

Cross still had trouble reconciling his memory of Dream's impressive wingspan with the comparatively tiny things now sprouting from the back of his- (lord, master, crush, boyfriend? they weren't enemies anymore, at least, but damn if Cross could put a name to their relationship now, when he barely knew what the fuck was going on)- friend. The first month waiting for them to grow back had been a different kind of surreal, and even now, three months later, seeing them so small was strange.

Seeing the colors so much more vivid, ever changing, was equally so, if in a better way. Cross had decided the trade off was worth it when he heard Dream laugh and saw that honey gold for the first time, so much more genuine than the harsh neon he had once thought was the peak of beauty. Cross really was an idiot: he hadn't even noticed-

"Now, Killer," Falsi's voice brought Cross back out of his head, "The first step in trimming is to make sure there are no weak points in the structure. Dream, if you please?"

Dream stirred in Cross's lap, tightening the hold he had around Cross' waist. After a moment, he spread his wings out to either side, stretching them to their fullest. They couldn't have been more than four feet long combined now, fresh, newly grown feathers (leaves? petals? Cross still wasn't sure about it all) shiny and soft, radiant in their own bioluminescence. Compared to how Dream's wings used to be, all Cross could think was, "tiny..."

Dream nuzzled his face more into Cross' lap, hiding, his wings shifting back to that nervous orange. Cross was thinking very hard about not thinking about where Dream's face was.

"You can see that he has full, smooth articulation," Falsi continued, "And right now, nothing seems to be out of place. You're growing in wonderfully, flower."

There was that pretty gold again. Cross bit back the stab of jealousy that hit him out of nowhere.

"Do we have permission to touch, Dream?" Falsi asked, pointedly.

"... _I do not have a problem with any of you three touching me,_ " Dream replied, lifting his head so his voice would travel more clearly.

Falsi smiled. "Excellent! Progress! Then we will continue. Come here, beautiful, run your hand along this ridge, and give a gentle squeeze: it is not bone, but it is dense enough to act like it, see?" Falsi put his hand on the top edge of one of Dream's wings. Almost immediately, the color near where his hand alighted shifted from gold to a vivid bubblegum pink, spreading along wherever Falsi touched, and slowly creeping outward.

Dream made a soft noise, ducking his head to once more hide his face. His grip tightened again around Cross's middle, his breath quickening. Cross swore he could feel his hot breath batter against his inner thigh, even though his shorts should have been too thick for it. He clawed at the edges of the couch, keeping his hands politely at his sides.

Killer, beckoned forward, reached out and mimicked Falsi's technique on Dream's other wing. He yanked his hand back at first as if it had been burned. "that-"

"Yes, that is why I recommended you wear gloves," Falsi hummed, nodding. "He radiates energy like a little furnace, don't you flower? But it's not as bad as it used to be~" He giggled, thumbing at the notch where Dream's wing had its first joint.

Dream gasped, starting to tremble.

"Much gentler, much less invasive~ Still potent, no doubt, so wear your gloves while you work."

Killer put his hand back, giving a tentative squeeze. "warm..." 

Cross gulped. "c-" Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

" _If you wish to,_ " Dream breathed.

Cross brought a hand up, careful, hesitant. He didn't understand why, but something about this seemed intimate. He hoped he wasn't as flushed as he felt. _Just reach out and touch it, you coward, they're just wings-_

Cross' hand curled around the closest segment of one of Dream's wings, near where Falsi's hand still had a hold. On contact, a soothing heat traveled through Cross' exposed fingers, up his arm, invading his system with _arousal/happiness/trust/embarrassment_ to the point he was dizzy with it, drunk on it. He never wanted it to end, it was _amazing_ , it-

Falsi nudged Cross' hand back. "Very potent~" He sounded particularly pleased.

Cross gasped as he came back to himself, looking down at Dream. He put his hands on Dream's skull, stroking over the soft surface, tracing along the band of discoloration where his circlet usually sat. Dream continued to shiver and pant, holding on to Cross like he was the only thing keeping him grounded. There was something empowering, satisfying, about being held so desperately by a creature so powerful, so beautiful.

"Now here comes the tricky part," Falsi continued with his instruction to Killer. "These new growths are... well, lets say his old ones had been somewhat desensitized. Dream, are you certain you do not wish for any painkillers?"

" _N-no, thank you,_ " came Dream's muffled, hitched reply.

Falsi grimaced, but sighed. "I tried." He snipped the air with the scissors that looked more like tiny gardening shears the longer Cross looked at them. "You want to look for damaged or poorly grown growths first; anything that isn't healthy, really. If it isn't glowing as brightly, or the color is off from its neighbors, that's a bad sign as well. Like this little one here-"

There was a _snip_. Dream cried out, clawing at Cross's clothes in the back. His wings were suddenly entirely pink.

Falsi held up a snipped off feather- leaf- which he turned between his fingers, showing the faded hue. The snipped end was dripping a deep red substance that reminded Cross too vividly of blood.

Killer stiffened, sockets going dark as he too focused on it.

Falsi shushed. "It is not blood, beautiful, it's sap. And... also not even that. But close enough." He licked the edge of it, tasting the red and giggling. "It is no different than what his twin walks around in. Except, perhaps, it is. Look closely..." He offered it for inspection. "See the flecks of pink? If you tasted it, it would be sweet. There is, at least, pleasure to be found in this pain." He seemed thoughtful at that admission.

Killer gave his boyfriend a look. Cross couldn't blame him: the man was odd. Clever, well meaning, but _odd_. Killer took the offered sample, smearing the red ooze between his fingers.

"If the imagery is too evocative, I can finish up while you go rest," Falsi offered.

Killer shook his head. "smells wrong to be blood. or determination."

A nervousness in Falsi eased, which helped Cross in turn relax. "Splendid, splendid! Then let's see if you can find the next bit. Here are the scissors. Feel around if you are not certain."

Killer took the sheers, snipping the air as he tested the weight. Cross, personally, didn't like the idea of giving Killer anything sharp, but Killer's soul remained stable, calm, and his hands moved steadily. He reached out, tangling his gloved fingers in the glowing fluff of Dream's wing, stroking and feeling around every little surface in his search for whatever needed culled.

Dream whimpered, starting to squirm in Cross' lap. His wings trembled under Killer's hand, light pulsing irregularly. It grew brighter with the volume of his voice, as if every part of him struggled to contain the emotion within. Cross tried to sooth him, stroking over his increasingly sweaty skull, but he was honestly just trying not to think about where that skull was resting, what kinds of noises he was hearing, or develop any Pavlovian responses to the color pink.

Killer made a triumphant noise, bringing the shears closer at an angle Cross couldn't quite see. He barely heard the _snip_ under the cry Dream made. Killer's hands came away covered in pink and red slime, holding a feather that looked like it had been chewed up. "like this?"

"Just like that, beautiful," Falsi praised, taking the clipping to put in a glass container. He looked positively giddy, as if completely unbothered by the sight of Dream writhing in- in something that was adjacent to Cross' lap and very very nice to think about and _he had to try really really hard not to think about it, he was a professional, he was on guard duty, he wasn't supposed to be-_

To be-

Killer made another snip, then another, and every time Dream clawed at Cross' body for dear life as his musical little voice was stripped out of him. The scent of apples and sugar was becoming unbearably strong, making Cross almost as dizzy as the touch of Dream's wings had.

" _Please-!!_ " Dream gasped, his tiny, delicate body rattling. " _Help-_ "

"Do you need us to stop?" Falsi asked, perfectly calm, unbroken, unperturbed (if anything, Cross thought he looked happy to hear Dream begging so desperately).

" _Please, no, do not stop!_ "

"Excellent. Continue, Killer, while I gather a few of these samples. See the fluff near the scapulae? That's where most of this wretched pollen seems to originate."

" _My apologies, doctor-_ " Dream's shaky apology was strangled to wordless whimpers as Falsi began delicately scraping something powdery off the small, delicate tufts that covered Dream's shoulder blades and upper back. Cross could see that Falsi was using only the lightest touch, almost tenderly guiding the powder into a petri dish with a wooden popsicle stick, but Dream was crying out like he was-

Well. The mental images in Cross' head were completely unprofessional. He should absolutely not be thinking about Dream like that. Nope. He shouldn't be thinking about Dream pinned down as he was fucked into the couch, or moaning around his dick, or-

" _Cross, please-!!_ "

Cross shook himself out of his absolutely inappropriate fantasy to look back down at Dream. Dream had finally pulled his face up to look back at Cross. Cross almost wished he hadn't: Dream had shiny pink tear tracks running down his face, a similar rivulet coming down from his teeth. His eyelights, usually bright and warm and full of unfathomable knowing, were hazy and unfocused. His face was glowing the same cotton candy color as his wings, as the sweat soaking his trembling body.

He looked absolutely wrecked.

Cross had been trying so very, very hard not to think about it, but that was over: the thought was thunk, his dick was hard, his soul was aflutter and his face was probably a halloween light.

"Must we play twenty questions every time you want something? Troublesome thing," Falsi tisked.

Killer, flushed himself under his mask, was idly stroking those wings now, spreading the candy coating of ooze that had built up over the course of the last few minutes.

Cross was begging the multiverse wordlessly. He brought his hand up, wiping the tears away. Dream closed his sockets, leaning into Cross' hand with such unconditional trust that Cross couldn't contain the gutteral noise that trembled in his own ribs.

"Do you need us, or want us, to stop?" Falsi asked.

" _No, please-,_ " Dream sobbed.

Killer's eyelights glittered in that sparkling grey. "he can't lie right? think i'm cute, princy?"

Dream shivered, arching back to press more into Killer's hand. " _Yes._ "

"Killer!" Another tisk from Falsi, but Cross saw the fondness, heard the amusement. "Do you want to be scolded too?"

"maybe." Killer inspected his very gooey gloves.

"No you don't, you want told what a good little assistant you are," Falsi hummed, leaning over to nuzzle the top of his head.

Cross stroked down Dream's neck, feeling the weight of his gaze which hadn't left him yet. "you, uh, can't lie. so. uh. do you. um..."

" _Please... Cross..!_ "

Dream really had to stop saying his name like that. Cross had enough trouble holding himself together without Dream saying his name like it was pornographic.

"Dream, do you want Cross to do something to you, too?" Falsi asked.

Dream squirmed, ducking his head to hide in Cross' chest. He scooted forward, getting up on his knees, tucked into a ball as close to Cross as he could manage. His dripping wings were still spread, leaving pink stains on the carpet.

"he didn't say no," Killer noticed aloud, circling around the couch to get at the other wing. Another snip: Dream's whole body flinched against Cross', another cry ripped out of him.

Cross looped one arm under and around Dream's waist. The pink slime immediately started to stain his monochrome sleeve, but Cross couldn't bring himself to care. His other hand stayed on Dream's skull, protecting the back of his neck, where Cross always felt vulnerable.

"He did not," Falsi agreed.

"are you guys seriously teasing him right now?" Cross barked, glaring at the two little shits who seemed completely nonplussed about whatever intimate act they were committing.

"Perhaps." Falsi inspected Dream's wings again, checking over Killer's work. "But he brought it on himself by not being open about what he wants. Stubborn, spoiled flower."

Dream was flushed as bright as Cross felt, trembling in his arms. He thought he heard his bones rattle, and even that was musical, like wind chimes.

"What do you want, Dream?" Falsi demanded. "Use your words."

Dream squirmed. " _I- If it is not- Not too forward...!!_ " He his breath hitched every time Killer made another cut. " _Please..!! Could you- may I have a- a kiss? Cross?_ "

Cross looked down at Dream and had to take a moment to process what he was hearing, what he was seeing. Dream was asking _him_ for a _kiss_ like it was something forbidden, something he wanted, needed. "i-" Cross felt like his soul was about to explode in his chest and dust him from the sheer level of aroused and flustered he was.

Instead of stumbling through words and failing, like an idiot, Cross, took a gentle hold of Dream's chin, leaned down, and gave him exactly what he asked for.

Teeth met teeth. Dream arched his back, pressing deeper into the kiss and letting out a moan as his delicate fingers dug desperately into Cross' shirt, fisting tight enough to tear the fabric. When Cross opened his mouth to let him in, he was surprised to feel three... four... more than one squirming mass entering to invade his mouth, to curl around his own summoned tongue. They all tasted different, one like tomatoes, one like lettuce, one like onions, one like cilantro...

Dream's kisses tasted like a fucking taco and Cross was going to have to try really really hard not to develope a pavlovian response.

There was a moment where Dream sat stiff, shaking, before going boneless in Cross' arms, pulling away to gasp for air.

Falsi brightened. "Oh, oh, may I take samples?"

Dream's voice broke a few times before he managed a hoarse, whispered, " _Yes._ "

Falsi pulled a beaker and a dropper out of his bag, gently nudging Dream so he was laying more on his side, head tucked under Cross' chin. Killer moved to keep working on the wings, which both hung over one side of the couch, while Falsi crouched over the other. Unceremoniously, Falsi pulled apart the knot holding Dream's waistband in place, flipping the kilt up and tugging his breaches down to reveal a very stiff, very pink dick. The breaches were soaked, slimed from the inside, staining the soft cream to something that looked like it had been put through the wash with a red sweater. Elated, Falsi took the slime from the clothing first.

It took Cross' big dumb brain a few moments to realize Dream came in his lap, from his kiss. He hoped no one noticed his pants had become a tad damp too.


	24. Day 23: Capable Hands 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Double penetration in one hole | Tickling | Shower sex  
>  **Kinks:** Hands; Laughter; Souls  
>  **Pairing:** FirstStarBerry (Outertale!Sans / Underswap!Sans / Undertale!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.5k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prequel on [Day 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65866753)

Comic gave Impulse's soul one last little kiss before returning it to Impulse's ribs. His boyfriend was a rattling, wheezing mess, his begging coming through in jerking trembles. His long, lanky frame quivered with his aborted orgasm, slick and glistening with sweat.

That was a good sign. Impulse being able to sweat at all was such an improvement. Comic kissed his skull, nuzzling. "there... yeah...

Blue pulled his hands away to look at the thin sheen of slime that had accumulated from Impulse's sweat and pre. "I THINK WE ALL DESERVE A SHOWER."

[yeah,] Impulse signed, still looking a little dazed. His eyelights hadn't sparked back into his sockets.

"CAN I CARRY YOU THERE?" Blue asked.

Impulse tried moving (still keeping his ecto summoned -- it was always his goal to keep it on as long as he could), but didn't manage to even sit up by himself before he flopped back into Comic's lap. [yeah.]

"MAYBE A CANE TOO?" Blue suggested, gathering Impulse into his arms to cuddle against his chest.

[no.]

"A STAFF MAYBE?"

[i refuse.]

Comic got ahead of them, moving the little shower stool into place. it was a comfortable thing, made of some special wood that withstood water. Comic used it himself, but it was especially nice for Impulse. Their shower was the big kind, a walk in type with a little floor lip instead of walls. Comic was grateful for the renovation, finding the open floorplan was a balm on days when the claustrophobia hit hardest. He settled the stool right under the showerhead and turned the water on to warm, adjusting the stool to one side when he saw how the water fell.

Blue sat Impulse down on the other stool by the wall, letting him settle himself and undress at his own pace. Blue was quick to shed his own clothes, tisking at Comic when he saw he hadn't made any progress of his own.

"COMIC! AREN'T YOU GOING TO SHOWER TOO?"

"yup."

"ARE YOU GOING TO GET UNDRESSED?"

"nope."

"WHY NOT?"

"lazy." Comic smiled at his boyfriend (stars, it was still a thrill to think that, he was so lucky, he loved him so much, holy shit-).

"THAT IS NO EXCUSE! WELL..." Blue pretended to roll up sleeves he had already discarded. "IF YOU WILL NOT, THEN I VOLUNTEER TO ASSIST YOU."

"cool." It was exactly what Comic wanted.

Blue was always so gentle when handling either of them. Comic remembered the way Blue's hands felt on him the first time they met. He supposed that was how he fell in love, Blue's hands treating him right. Comic blushed at the memory, a little ashamed, a little guilty, a little shameless in his romanticism. No helping it now, not when those same hands were so eager to strip him and hold him close.

"THERE. MUCH BETTER," Blue murmured, right before sealing the declaration with a kiss. Comic curled his arms around Blue's neck, melting into him, the happiest guy in the world, ever.

He really should have known better. Blue was in a mood, and just because Impulse was there to bully didn't mean Comic was safe (not that he ever wanted to be safe, thanks). One moment it was just the two of them sharing a loving embrace, kissing, the shower making a lovely white noise that lulled Comic into a mindset of serenity; the next, Blue's wonderful, sexy, clever fingers had found Comic's false ribs, and were scritching at them in all the wrong ways (or, depending on how you wanted to look at it, all the _right_ ways to make him laugh). Comic felt his whole body tense, immediately trying to squirm away, but Blue's grip was strong and his kisses hard to resist. Comic broke the deep kiss, crying out a chortled "wait-!" between giggling fits. Blue, unperturbed (that wasn't their safeword, they both knew that), just started kissing other places, Comic's cheek and neck and shoulder, as he backed him up into the wall.

"please, blue, i-" Comic tried again, laughing harder. He felt the rumble of Blue's deeper chuckle quiver through him, even as Blue's hands only tickled him more.

Comic felt his chest and pelvis start to warm. He was laughing so hard he was barely making a sound, just a few shredded wheezes and squeaks and desperate pleas for mercy. Pressure and heat continued building until it finally snapped, his rather slick pussy taking shape between his trembling legs. It was only then that Blue's assault let up, one hand going to probe at his quivering slit while the other held him for support.

Comic could only cling to Blue, gasping for air he didn't really need, as he was gently fingered. "THINK MAYBE ONE DAY I CAN MAKE YOU COME LIKE THAT?" Blue asked idly.

Comic felt his magic clench just thinking about it.

Blue kissed him again, softer this time. Comic took the opportunity to get his knees to start working for him, grinding weakly onto Blue's hand.

Impulse clapped. Comic blinked, seeing that somehow, while he was distracted, Impulse had managed to get undressed and limp his way to the stool under the showerhead. His dick was still at rapt attention between his splayed legs where he had hooked them over the sides of the stool. [what about me?]

Blue smirked. "I THINK I HAVE AN IDEA. BUT YOU BOTH HAVE TO PROMISE TO BE CAREFUL FOR IT."

"can do," Comic panted. If this idea meant getting off, Comic was pretty ok with anything. What the hell was it about his boyfriends that made him so uncharacteristically horny at times? It was a mystery.

After Impulse gave his agreement, Blue scooped Comic up with a laugh of his own, holding him by the femurs. Comic yelped, squirming a bit to find his balance before going pliant, letting himself be maneuvered as Blue pleased. Blue spun him around until Comic had his back to Blue, legs spread to give Impulse a clear view of his dripping slit.

Blue carried Comic over to Impulse, the misty spray of the shower hitting Comic's ribs and sending tingling chills down his spine. He almost asked what Blue was planning before he felt the gentle prod of what was unmistakably Impulse's dick at his entrance, the warmth of it disrupting all other thoughts. Comic got the idea, bracing his hands as he leaned forward on the wall behind Impulse, hooking his legs over Impulse's hips as Blue slowly lowered him down.

Comic moaned as he was filled so nicely, hiding his face in Impulse's chest. Warm water battered over them both, sliding down Comic's skull and back and through his ribs, dripping onto the bulge of ecto between their legs where Impulse had him speared.

"fuck-!!" Comic swore, feeling Impulse twitch inside him, his taller datemate's arms clinging rather desperately to his ribcage.

"LANGUAGE, BUT YES THAT." Blue purred, sounding a tad out of breath himself. Comic felt a slender phalanx slide between Impulse's magic and Comic's, starting to stretch him wider. Comic moaned louder, clutching Impulse with one hand and the handle slip-guard bolted to the wall with the other. Soon a second finger joined the first, then a third. Comic couldn't tell if the wetness dripping down his face was water or sweat or tears.

"DO YOU THINK I COULD TRY TO FIT?" Blue asked, as if the third finger starting to stretch Comic open more wasn't question enough.

"please-!! yeah, please-!!" Comic felt Impulse nod against his skull, his quivering syncing with Comic's to make a pleasant buzz that only made the wet and the heat more unbearably wonderful.

Comic idly wondered how awkward and annoying shower sex would have been in the dinky shower they used to have, thanking his past self for a most excellent decision once again. See? Comic had good ideas, sometimes.

Blue's tip prodded at Comic's opening, reinforcing the thought of having good ideas with a delicious reward. Soon Comic was spread open, impaled, stretched to his limit, and allowed to just sit there and take it as he was fucked from behind. Magic ground against magic, sparking and trembling and quivering in damp heat and pressure and pleasure, the echoes of all the _love_ and affection he was used to from soul sex reverbing out from his pelvis, reinforced again by Blue's ragged, desperate whispers and Impulse's shaky kisses.

Comic didn't last long (he never did), pleasure shooting through him like lightning and shorting out what little cognisance he had to cling to.

He must have blacked out, because the next thing Comic knew, he was bundled in a towel in bed, tucked in next to Impulse, Blue's arm stretched out over them both like he could protect them from the world.

Comic stopped doubting a long time ago that he couldn't. He threaded his fingers with Blue's, squeezing softly as he let out a sigh. It was easy enough to go back to sleep when he felt that good, that safe, with the ones he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POLY~ <3


	25. Day 24: A Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Sweat | ~~Branding~~ | Masturbation  
>  **Kinks:** Helplessness; Heavy Petting; Hand Jobs; Voice; Scent  
>  **Pairing:** Slinky (Lamia!Sans OC) / Falsi (Sans!OC)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; Nonconsensual Biting; Poisoning; Contains Plague Doctor  
>  **Length in Words:** ~3.3k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> falsi features again <3  
> slinky features again <3
> 
> owo

Slinky hissed at his very clever but also very stupid mate, shifting back and forth on the carpet that had been placed for his convenience. Across the room, separated by too much cold stone flooring, was Falsi, hunched over a table giving his attention to those smelly bottles that made Slinky want to sneeze.

Falsi continued his mumbling, talking to himself instead of Slinky.

It had been days now. Days. Slinky was sure of it, even though he could not tell the passage of time in the darkness of the castle dungeon. At first he had been content to nap in his away nest, curled up comfortably in the corner while he watched Falsi do his little passion projects here, where Hiphop didn't have to see the shiny tools that sometimes made Slinky want to bite someone. He'd occasionally brave the chill floor when his mouth got sore, steal a few nuzzles between milkings, and then return to the nest to let Falsi enjoy his things, but honestly, he was starting to worry about his stupid-smart mate. Slinky wasn't sure it was healthy for two-legged things to be on their feet for so long, to go without sleep or snacks.

Slinky hissed again, calling out his tall mate's name as best he could. "fffffffffffffalssssssssssi??"

"Hmm?" Falsi looked up from his work, the shiny false eyes of his mask shimmering in the dim candlelight. "Oh, yes, yes, how silly of me, how long has it been? Another draining, gorgeous?" He set down his current fixation, taking off his gloves to leave them behind (he knew Slinky hated gloves as a general rule, although he did not mind the leather ones as much when they were clean). He picked up the beaker (that was the word, _beaker_ ) with the little lip that pressed up just right on Slinky's venom sacks so his mate could use his other hand for pets and scritches, the most optimal of designs, and strode over to Slinky's nest with his usual tittering.

It was always nice when prey came to you.

Slinky reared up, slow, careful not to appear threatening, and reached up for affections (nothing unusual there; Slinky loved getting affection, and made a point of asking for it often). Falsi saw nothing out of the ordinary, embracing Slinky with a delighted giggle, marvelling at Slinky's tail. "My, my, look at you! Just get handsomer every day, don't you, gorgeous? Think you'll be shedding soon?"

Slinky mimicked the purring noise that he knew his mate liked, nuzzling up under his chin, against his neck. There were a few layers of fabric in the way there, thick and protective, which made a surprise attack there less likely to be effective. Slinky tried sliding up under the coat, making a note of how warm and nice it was inside for future reference, to see if he could tug the collar of Falsi's shirt away undetected.

What Slinky found was that the shirt was of woven make, easily punctured compared to the rest of Falsi's sturdy clothes. Slinky knew from exploring his other mates that the sturdiest bones for safe biting were the legs and the neck, and the last thing he wanted was Falsi getting hurt. Before Slinky let himself think stupid-circles around the idea, he lunged, biting clean through the nasty turtleneck sweater to pierce the nice bones beneath, and emptied his venom sacks.

Falsi flinched, yelping at the sudden bite. "Slinky! No, mischief! Mischief, you stop that right now-!!" He stumbled back, dropping the beaker and using both hands to try and remove Slinky. Slinky was good at holding onto his prey, however, and had already latched onto the sturdy belts that he knew from experience were so hard to remove. Slinky's mate was a fighter, however, and Slinky made certain not to underestimate him, keeping a tight grip until he felt the last drop of venom leave his mouth.

Falsi struggled a few moments more before his grip began to slacken, and Slinky felt him fall. Slinky unclenched his jaw, spitting out gross fibers as he shifted his own center of gravity back, catching Falsi as he fell and easing him down into the nest, into Slinky's waiting coils.

Slinky spared a few moments to adjust them both, getting comfortable and coiling his tail as much around Falsi as possible. His mate was a tall-and-pleasant-to-climb-tree, but Slinky was very long, and could get a number of loops around his legs comfortably. Once situated nice and warm, Slinky nuzzled his mate, opening his coat and pulling the gross turtleneck aside to check the bare bones where he'd bitten him.

Slinky prodded the tiny puncture marks with his tongue, sniffing, feeling, wanting to be sure that no unnecessary damage or pain had been caused. He licked at the tiny fracture that likely arose from their struggle, mimicking the tisk noise Falsi liked to make when he thought someone was acting silly. Silly mate, indeed, since he should have just relaxed and let Slinky do his job.

The fear smell, the panic smell, now those were things that needed resolved quickly. Slinky's mate should never, ever be afraid of him. There needs to be trust in a relationship! Slinky, however, was a clever mate, reaching into Falsi's coat and feeling for the calming needles (the good needles, the ones that make things better, the ones his mate used on himself). Slinky pulled one out, fiddling with it until he could pop off the cover. He was careful, sliding the needle in between the joints of Falsi's neck, right under his bite, and depressing the plunger. After removing the needle, he prodded the area again with his tongue, checking if the fear smell was still lingering.

The fear smell had dwindled to nothing, leaving only the sense of a vague, dull ache. Slinky mimicked the purring noise he knew Falsi liked, nuzzling his shoulder. "ressssssssst," he hissed, pressing a kiss to the injured bone.

Not that Falsi had a choice there, now: Slinky's venom was potent, rendering one immoble save for a few basic vital functions. Falsi _had_ to take a break now~

As such, the coat had to come off, and those belts needed loosened. Slinky got to work stripping Falsi of the uncomfortable parts of his clothes, setting them aside for him to put back on later. Figuring out how to unbutton the vest was fun, especially once he got it off and could nuzzle Falsi's chest, listening to his soul beat through his not-very-tasty-sweater.

The anxious prey-flutters (which had been very very nice in the moment) were beginning to die down. Slinky rubbed his face all up and down Falsi's chest, enjoying the soft not-tasty fabric that was beginning to warm under his hands. Slinky loved warms! He loved warms from his mates the most. He hissed, very pleased with himself and his thoughtfulness, his cleverness. A snake ball was just what he and his wonderful tall-like-the-handsomest-tree-mate absolutely needed.

Slinky lay there for a while, just enjoying the quiet, the tranquility of having nothing more to do in his life than cuddle his mate and share in the heat of their proximity. His coils shifted lazily over and around Falsi's legs, eventually weaving between them, giving his upper leg (femur? Slinky recalled it being called a femur) a gentle squeeze. Seeking more contact, Slinky pulled one of Falsi's hands up to lay on his chest, giving Slinky bare bone to nuzzle, to nibble and sniff with his clever tongue.

What Slinky was not expecting to smell, however, was the smell of arousal, of need. Slinky smiled, letting his tongue wander lower, just to be certain, and take a sniff at the seam of Falsi' pants. The scent of arousal was unmistakable, as was the bulge deforming the fabric. Slinky nuzzled at Falsi's midriff, rubbing at his hips, tugging at the loops in his pants where his belt had been. It would be an easy task for Slinky to simply take care of the 'problem', but he wanted Falsi to rest...

And Falsi did mention it was rude to touch without permission. Slinky did not have permission to be a good mate and touch his mate nice. He purred, slinking back up to tuck himself under Falsi's chin, careful not to put too much pressure on his bitten neck. He shushed Falsi, despite his mate being quiet and well behaved, moving one of Falsi's arms to curl around Slinky in a half hug.

Slinky threaded their fingers together, purring louder as he let his other hand slide down his own body, lower and lower until he found his cloaca. He eased two fingers in, gasping at the sudden intensity of stimulation. He pulled Falsi's hand to his face, hiding in the nice smell of Falsi's palm (his metacarpals, Slinky knew those words, he was clever) as he panted, starting to fill with the false heat of pleasure.

Slinky's cloaca finally shifted form (useless body, needing bribed with pets to obey, really, Slinky had such a hard life), becoming a proper slit with tender, sensitive nerves. Slinky brushed lightly at the apex of those nerves, crying out sharply at the electric jolt that went up and down his tail. He waited a moment, then did it again, easing himself into a steady circular motion. There was something inherently erotic about pleasing himself while snuggled close to his mate, smelling him, warmed by him, knowing how easy it would be for him to fill the hole he'd summoned just for the pleasure of it.

"fffffffffallsssssssiii~" Slinky mewled, tensing as he came, feeling the slick splatter over his fingers. Snakes were not particularly slimy creatures, but Slinky found even he made a bit of a mess for his mates. He brought his messy hand up, sniffing it. It wasn't as nice as the smells his mates made, in Slinky's opinion. Slinky turned his head back into Falsi's neck, lapping at the sweat that had begun building up on his mate's bones.

The scent of arousal, of growing frustration, of want: Slinky purred, nuzzling into Falsi's palm one more time before reaching up to remove Falsi's mask. Slinky would put it right back on, of course, but he wanted to see his mate's face, always so expressive, so alive.

Slinky was not disappointed. Falsi had the softest, more relaxed grin Slinky had seen since the last snake ball, just showing the tips of his little baby fangs that were useless for hunting, yet still so cute (cute, now that was a word he had Falsi to thank for, a word he would use for his mate eagerly and often). The pale ivory of his face was colored by a prominent, brilliant cobalt flush, stretching from one side of his face to the other in a broad stroke of soft light. His sockets were relaxed, half closed, but Slinky could see the eyelight of his good eye was blown out wide. There was a soft shimmer of sharper light leaking from the cracks of his scar, which Slinky prodded tenderly, first with his tongue, then with the flats of his thumbs as he held Falsi's face in both hands.

"yessssssssss," Slinky approved. This was absolutely what his mate needed, to relax, to take a moment and enjoy his life. Slinky leaned in to kiss him like his mates had taught him to kiss, tongue snaking (no pun intended, unless one of his mates asked, in which case it was absolutely on purpose and they should laugh) between Falsi's slightly parted teeth, moaning eagerly.

Now, how to ask if he can mate...

* * *

Falsi hadn't been exactly pleased at being bitten and parylized so suddenly (and his darling little snake was going to be given quite the stern talking to about Consensual Biting Etiquette), but for a while, his indignation was put on hold: Falsi's current, singular, and overwhelming concern was the sheer level of testicular pressure currently being compressed in his pants, and the obvious solution so teasingly close and yet painfully out of reach.

Falsi had no dearth of perfectly healthy and rational phobias; helplessness, pain, and death being among them. Even so, there was something _excruciatingly intimate_ in being at another creature's mercy, and at the same time being safe in their care. The longer Falsi's impromptu captivity went on (especially after his anti-anxiety serum had been administered, clever reptile, Falsi couldn't underestimate him, would never want to), the more obvious it became that the lamia had nothing but benign intentions. Soft noises, soft caresses, that long, powerful tail shifting and twining betwixt and between his useless legs... Falsi was intensely aware that Slinky's habit of nuzzling his face on things was a territorial behavior, the way his subspecies indicated desire, possession, and affection, all while spreading its magic signature, its smell. Every little nuzzle was Slinky's quiet little way of saying that Falsi was his, and wanted, and that hit far too many internal buttons in quick succession to be anything but a critical hit to Falsi's deceptively tender sensibilities.

It was no wonder his magic responded so enthusiastically, really. How was Falsi supposed to resist such unrelenting stimulation? Was he simply supposed to ignore the soft grind of magnificent scales on his inner thigh? The musical vibrato of tremulous purring, done solely for his benefit? The sharp excitement of harmless lovebites to his fingertips? The glide of cheek and hand over his sensitive ribs, even through the padding of his meager sweater? What mortal man could last long against such a mischievous siren, soothing and singing so sweetly without a sound, without need for any words but his name?

And oh, _oh, how that voice said his name._ Not like his songbird, of course not, no one could ever, but still so sweetly, so irresistibly, so earnest and sublime. All the more wonderful, knowing the effort needed to enunciate every syllable was made with dedication and the truest of loyalties.

Of course the lamia would sniff out his rather obvious condition, of course he would. Falsi never would have guessed that he would be made to bear witness to art without the means to appreciate it as it so deserved. Hearing Slinky's desperate panting, the squelch of arousal building, feeling the fevered breath of his lamia bat against his open palm between angelic whimpers and the shredded howls of his name; surely no torture could be more blissful. Every second was a sharp jolt of want crashing down his spine, right to his pelvis, where it lingered like electricity drawn by a lightning rod.

If that were not enough, Slinky then had to peel away the last of Falsi's armour and take a kiss, deep and thorough, as if tailored just to make Falsi feel wanted. _Moon and Stars, he would very much like to move, right that very instant!_ He wanted to pull that mischievous little snake close, feel his bones and the pounding of his lifeblood, align him to Falsi and spear him in the sweetest way-

Even after all this time, however, all Falsi could manage was an inarticulate whine, a few finger twitches, the weakest of squirmings, the shift of his hips. His body was still very much inaccessible to him, save the shift of his smile and the shift of his eyelights. Even his tongue was of little use, barely trembling at his command while Slinky made the most tender of affections to it.

Slinky pulled back from the kiss, looming over Falsi with a smug, salacious smirk spreading wider across his face. He ducked down again, prodding his lovely, clever little tongue along Falsi's vulnerable neck, lapping at the beads of sweat building up on his fevered bones. Falsi couldn't tell if he was sweating from his want, or from the effort he was putting in to will his limbs to his command. Perhaps both.

Falsi attempted again to speak, but once more all he managed was a pitiful whimper. No amount of sight was going to move his arms, it seemed.

Damn.

Slinky squirmed sweetly at Falsi's side, against him, around his legs, a long wave of elation. "falllllsssssssii??" He slurred again, nuzzling their faces together in a softer intimacy (and not that Falsi was complaining, but how he wished that such nuzzles might be directed a little lower). "ressssssssssst..." Slinky stroked over Falsi's sternum for a few heartbeats, and a few more, still purring contentedly, the vibrations reverberating and echoing in Falsi's ribs (how nice such rhythms would feel if only directed a tad _lower_ , please, gods, and gods again, show him some fucking mercy). As if hearing his plea, the lamia's hand slid sweetly down his hip, stopping just short of contact where Falsi's body begged for it. "ttttttttouch? izzz 'kay?"

Falsi put every ounce of power behind a fervent nod, hoping it was prominent enough to be noticed. Yes, yes, touch! His dick throbbed with an intensity encroaching on pain at just the mere mention of it.

"ttttttouch-ch?? izz??" Slinky nuzzled into Falsi's hand, his tail shifting to spread his legs open a little wider. "izz!!"

Blessings, and blessings again. Falsi was going to grind the importance of communication into this little mischief with great enthusiasm. Perhaps even emphasizing the most important points with his spearhead, really going to thrust the point home, make sure it reached deep in the lamia and lingered there, burning it into him like a brand...

The noise Falsi made when Slinky finally made contact with his groin was nothing short of embarrassing, a ragged, vulnerable thing. Slinky chuckled, shifting to cradle Falsi's head against his shoulder, propping him up enough that he had a nice view of the proceedings. Slinky's fingers worked the zipper down slow, easing Falsi's pants open and down until his shaft was able to break free, standing at embarrassing attention. For a few moments, the snake merely admired it with open, unrestrained appreciation, his fingertips tracing patterns in the bone and ecto in and around the base, sending pulses of pleasant intent strong enough to curl Falsi's toes even on a good day.

The snake tucked his face into Falsi's neck, breathing deep of what Falsi could only assume was his sweat-soaked scent as he took hold of his length and began to stroke. Falsi's body undulated involuntarily, a weak thrust that did little more than tease him with the idea of more. Slinky's touch was gentle, easing Falsi into the idea of stimulation (giving him a bit of _insight_ into how sensitive Slinky's magic must be to such attention). The snake mewled, grinding his damp slit into Falsi's hip as he stroked him a little faster, pausing only to linger at the tip and tease the opening hidden there.

Clever minx, with clever fingers, sweet as saccharine and silk and lace, too soft, too gentle, only setting Falsi's soul afire ever more with his own whimpers and pleas. What soft torment was it to lay helpless in the arms of a loving partner, one whose desire to please you burned so bright, only to lie there in agony and want for more, more, more?

The pressure built to a breaking point, and before Falsi could register the agony, before he could feel himself torn apart from the inside, he came, his body awash in pinks and purples (and damn that foul demon again for ruining colors for him, damn, damn-) until he could see nothing else.

And then he saw nothing at all.

* * *

Slinky pulled his very sticky hand back, licking the cobalt slime from his fingertips with a pleased hum. The last of his mate's stiffness had finally melted away, sockets shut and jaw slack. Slinky licked his hand clean, then lay Falsi back down comfortably, curling atop him and pulling one of his many soft blankets over them both to catch their warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slinky is still learning proper etiquette haha he'll get more polite
> 
> Falsi: Sometimes science needs you to fuck a giant snake a whole lot. -undresses- The things a man must do~


	26. Day 25: Ask and Receive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Bondage | Gunplay | ~~Inflation~~  
>  **Kinks:** Dirty Talk; Adrenaline; Teasing  
>  **Pairing:** Mafiafell!Sans / Outertale!Sans  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; excessive plot; kidnapping; implied/referenced drugging; implied/referenced murder; panic attacks  
>  **Length in Words:** ~3k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a sequel to [something i wrote last year XD](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810/chapters/50448473)

Impulse sat down on the park bench, pulling his foot out of his slip-ons to give a good rub down through his stockings. As much as he enjoyed spending the day out with Red, walking so much was murder on his tarsals.

"s-should i get a hack?" Red asked, face pink enough to be mistaken for a fruit. Impulse watched as his eyelight quivered, focused on his face, only to dip down for a split second before focusing up again.

Impulse purposely lingered, stroking the sole of his foot, rolling his ankle. Red had the strangest hangups about certain body parts for a guy who got to third base before even asking for a date. Impulse couldn't help but admit that he often enjoyed doing perfectly innocent things and watching the sweat build up under Red's fedora. Today, however, Impulse didn't keep him hanging long, shaking his head before patting the bench next to him.

Red sat down, taking off his hat to fan himself (despite the autumn wind already blowing sweetly between the park trees). Impulse leaned against him, huffing out a silent sigh. Red, the dork, lit up at the simple gesture, wrapping his arm around Impulse and staring into the middle distance with a goofy grin. "dogs sure ain't nice t' skeletons, huh, kitten?"

Impulse let his shoulders shake with laughter.

"all that time i was stuck on ya, was sure ya wouldn't stick around long if ya found me out," Red murmured, oddly serious. "remember how we met?"

Of course Impulse did: one didn't forget that sort of thing easily. He nodded.

"figured i'd missed my shot right there," Red admitted.

Red might have, if he hadn't been so gentle, if he hadn't checked in at every step, if he hadn't asked first. The breakfast in bed the morning after had earned him some brownie points too. Impulse let go of his ankle, taking the moment he switched feet to stroke over Red's arm, hoping Red took it for a comforting gesture.

"i know, doll. but ain't too often a swell skirt like ya gives a trouble boy the time o' day."

Impulse plucked at the skirt of his long dress, raising a brow ridge at Red, trying not to let his smile grow wider. Red flushed, sweating harder again. "i know yer a cat, but yer always gonna be my kitten, savvy?"

Impulse didn't mind. He just liked to tease Red about it. He switched to tending to his other foot, letting his sockets drift shut. The cool wind, the warm sun, Red right there at his side: it was a near perfect moment.

Then Impulse shifted, and he felt the slight shape of Red's pistol in his side holster. Impulse felt the warmth of his magic flood his face briefly, before flowing down to settle somewhere lower. He swallowed thick and dry, wondering how he was going to even explain what he wanted.

Finally, settling his other foot back into his shoe, Impulse tugged gently on Red's coat.

"yeah, j?"

Impulse pulled out his little notebook from one of the pockets of his skirts, shaking his fountain pen gently to get the ink running before scribbling out, 'remember when we first met?'

Red gently pinched the corner of the notebook, tilting it until he could see the inking. "...yeah..?"

Impulse smiled up at him, feeling only a little guilty for enjoying how nervous he got. Then he wrote out his next message: 'remember what you did with your gun?'

Red stared at the words almost long enough for the ink to dry. His face went from pink to tomato crimson (and they called Impulse the tomato between them! hah!), his eyelight guttering out as his sweating intensified. "y-yeah?"

Impulse felt his grin spread mischievously across his face. He took his time writing the final note. He savored the elegant cursive he used, curls and frills and rather seductive calligraphy if he did say so himself (he even dotted his 'i's with little hearts, because go big or go home): 'i want you to do that again~'

Red almost looked like luminescent crimson paint had been dumped over his head. He let out a whistling noise like a kettle left on too long. There was a prominent (glowing) bulge in his pelvic region, which he promptly covered with his hat. "j, ya- ya can't go sayin' them things in public!"

'i didn't say anything,' Impulse happily scrawled out. 'i'm dumb, remember?' He might have enjoyed adding the sassy little heart icon too much. Life was about the little things, in Impulse's opinion.

Red, a flustered, sweaty mess, did little besides sit there staring at Impulse's words. Impulse could almost imagine seeing the little metaphorical gears turning, his beau walking himself through memory and fantasy until the two blurred into one in his mind. Impulse supposed maybe he had been a tad forward, but with the way Red had been over the last few months of courtship, he doubted the dork would be getting off the ground, never mind into orbit (bad choice of words, erase that from the conversation: he did not want his brother and his sex life to exist in the same star system, never mind the same sentence). Impulse knew if he wanted more, he'd have to make the first move.

Red took in a deep breath. "i- heh- damn. uh. how about. next time? i bring ya back t' my place, and we..?"

Impulse nodded, nuzzling into Red's chest, his hand discretely stroking over the pistol hidden under his suit. He felt Red shiver, saw his smile quirk up in the same way it did when he was dealt a winning hand in poker. It felt pretty good, making him smile that way.

The sun would be setting soon, but Impulse felt safe there with Red. He trusted him: he trusted him to keep him grounded, and to get him home before nightfall.

* * *

Red was still reeling from the excitement from Impulse's big reveal. He'd been on cloud nine the entire way back to Impulse's apartment, almost too dumbstruck to even remember how doors worked. Impulse, the darling, didn't seem put out, giving him a swell goodnight kiss before locking his door for the night. Red stumbled home in a near daze, was _still_ in a daze.

How'd Red manage to get himself the best moll a guy could ever dream of?

Red was humming to himself, polishing and fine tuning his piece, thinking about what he'd be using it for so very, deliciously soon, when his brother came in.

"heya, bro."

"YOU HAVE A LETTER."

"ain't it a bit late for th' mailmain t' be droppin' off..." Red trailed off, looking up from his work. Edge held out an unmarked envelope, which Red quickly snatched and ripped open.

"no..."

* * *

Impulse woke up to darkness. His head ached like it did after a night of heavy drinking, pounding and thick as if stuffed in cotton. His whole body felt sluggish and heavy. Even when he got past that, however, Impulse found he was struggling to move his limbs.

"She's awake," said a voice that Impulse did not recognise.

"Who cares," said another.

Impulse knew he should have been terrified, but his soul was too slow, too heavy to muster up that kind of emotion. All he felt was annoyed at being taken out of his bed and not even offered a goddamn coffee.

Red offered him coffee.

Red.

Red would make it better.

Impulse relaxed, shifting to be as comfortable as possible with how his arms were tied behind him. He just had to wait. Which was a good thing, because he didn't think he could stay awake much longer anyway.

* * *

When Impulse woke next, it was to the sound of a gunshot. He jumped, his whole body tensing at the loud popping noise. In the dark of his blindfold, followed by the screaming that cut so abruptly to silence, it reminded him too much of the space stations, of nails and screws forced out of their proper place by intense forces and the life within diluted to nothing but dust.

Impulse felt himself hyperventilating, felt the stress of it straining his ribs to the point of agony, but hell if he knew how to stop. He didn't want to go back, he couldn't go back, he was on Earth, he was _happy_ , please _don't make him go back up there-_

"j-! j-!" A familiar voice in the dark. Familiar, grounding hands cupped Impulse's face, trembling against him. "j, it's just me. yer gonna be a'aight. j. kitten? breathe fer me, doll?"

Just hearing Red's voice was doing wonders for Impulse's mental state. He gulped in deeper breaths, trying to calm down. He'd probably be crying if he had the magic for it. Maybe he was crying, his blindfold felt kind of damp in places. Faster than Impulse thought possible, he was breathing easy and slow, if still shaky.

"that's my kitten," Red murmured, hand sliding up Impulse's skull, telegraphing his intentions with textile clues. "these bracelets need jimmied with special tools, so they gotta wait 'till i get'cha home, but i'm gonna get this blindfold off, ok-"

Impulse shook his head violently. He didn't know how long it had been, it might still be dark outside. At least, with the blindfold on, he didn't have to _see_ that it was dark outside. He could pretend. If Red took it off, with Impulse's wrists handcuffed behind him, he wasn't going to be able to ask for help-!

"blindfold stays on?" Red sounded confused at first. "ya sure?"

Impulse nodded, calming down.

"okay, then. gonna pick ya up, savvy?"

Impulse nodded again, concentrating on staying relaxed. He was safe, he was fine, he wasn't in outer space careening into a black hole in a rickety metal coffin: Impulse really couldn't care less about being drugged and kidnapped compared to that, honestly. He ought to be concerned about his priorities, but Impulse didn't have the bandwidth to dwell on it.

Red scooped Impulse up with arms that exuded infinite gentleness: and when Impulse compared it to the infinite, he was comparing it to the ever expanding vastness of space, to something so astronomical in every sense of the word that it made one feel insignificant and small and alone. Instead, however, Red's infinite gentleness made Impulse feel important and safe. He sank into those arms, turning to nuzzle his face into Red's body. Red carried him, moving slow and smooth (to avoid jostling him whenever possible, if Impulse had to guess; the last time Red carried him he got a bit too excited and left a bruise on Impulse's arm; Red was distraught for days).

"HOW IS SHE?" A new voice asked, familiar. Edge? Red's little brother? They had only met a few times, but he seemed to be a good guy.

"still kickin'," Red answered, the relief in his voice nearly overshadowed by the hard edge of anger. "spooked good, only some light bruising from bein' manhandled all wrong. ya can let half o' 'm live."

"SOUNDS REASONABLE. GO ON AHEAD, WE WILL CLEAN UP HERE."

"thanks, boss."

Red continued walking. Impulse felt the brush of cold night air against his face and neck, heard the squeak of a door. The cool wind felt pretty good, all things considered.

He didn't think about the distant, muffled popping noises.

"guess we're goin' back t' my place sooner 'n i thought," Red joked.

Impulse nodded, nuzzling into him more. Poor Red. His plans never seemed to work how he wanted when it came to their relationship.

Red said something else, but Impulse's head was starting to feel fuzzy again, and he saw no reason to fight the draw of sleep when he was so comfortable in his boyfriend's arms.

* * *

When Impulse woke again, it was to the sound of Red's voice calling his name. "j? j? we're here?"

Impulse nodded, clawing his way slowly back to consciousness.

"gonna set ya down, savvy?" Red warned, before settling Impulse on something soft that smelled like Red. "now, blindfold?"

Impulse nodded, and after a few moments the cloth slid away from Impulse's face. Impulse blinked to adjust his vision again, smiling when Red's worried face came into focus. Before he let himself think about it, Impulse leaned forward and kissed him. Red made a choked off noise of surprise, then a deep, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. Those arms encircled Impulse, holding him close with their infinite gentleness, cradling him as Red enjoyed his mouth and Impulse enjoyed Red enjoying him.

When they parted, Red was relaxed, his face that bright tomato crimson and skull dotted in beads of sweat that matched the patches of damp on his clothes. "...berries."

Impulse nuzzled him, taking a deep breath to get a soft purr going (one sound he _could_ make, since it only needed air). He spread his legs, hooking them over Red's hips and trying to pull him closer.

"w-wait a sec, doll, lemme get them bracelets off ya, first-"

If Impulse had to wait even one more second, he was going to do something drastic. He didn't care. He wanted Red and he wanted him _right fucking now-_

"damn, yer real worked up, ain't ya..." Red whispered, before Impulse managed to initiate another kiss. "baby, please- i- i get it, ok, i get it, yer real into this 'n that's- wow, that' s real swell, but- but, please, lemme get them cuffs off o' ya? they ain't soft, kitten, i'm worried they're gonna leave marks..."

Oh, for fuck's sake, let the damn things leave marks. Impulse ground up as hard as he could into Red, pleased to find a bulge waiting for him.

"j-" And oh, that was a groan if Impulse ever heard one, "ya lil minx, i getcha, we can do the whole tied up thing, promise, but please, lemme at least get th' damn cuffs off? they aint good enough fer my moll..!"

Impulse sighed, finally unhooking his legs from poor, flustered Red, the gentleman, the darling. He nodded, rolling onto his stomach on the bed (for it was a bed, Red's bed probably, soft and cool and smelling of him) so Red could get his wrists. "attaboy," Red murmured, scratching lightly at the base of Impulse's skull, working down his neck to the space between his shoulderblades. Impulse felt tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying bleed clean out of him, snuggling into the comforter.

Red didn't jump to work right away (from the sound if it, he was rummaging for something), but eventually settled on the bed beside him and went to work on the cuffs. The soft noise of metal on metal made Impulse cringe. Red must have noticed, because his one hand stroked down Impulse's back, soothing distractions scratched with the tips of his claws until the cuffs fell away.

Red growled, rubbing at Impulse's wrists. "brutes dunno how t' treat a skirt..." he muttered, before something soft and silky was wrapped firm around Impulse's bones. Impulse remained pliant until he felt a testing tug. "that feel good?"

Impulse tried moving his arms. The silk thing slid and rubbed, soft but unyielding. Impulse nodded, feeling his pitiful magic finally start to obey him again, heading to gather at his pelvis where he wanted it. Red helped turn Impulse back over, and Impulse could see his tie was conspicuously missing.

There was something rather appealing about that. Impulse purred again, as loud as he could manage.

Red was sweating, that victorious grin on his face. "damn, doll... yer like a perfect lil angel wut fell from heaven just t' make all my dreams come true."

Impulse would have to tell him the grain of truth in that later. For now, he tried coaxing Red closer with his legs.

Red obliged, getting between Impulse's knees, and gently, always gently, pushing them up to pin against Impulse's chest, bent to go over Red's shoulders. "ya... ya want wut we talked about earlier?"

Impulse nodded, squirming his hardest to express the level of eagerness coursing through him. He finally managed to summon his pussy.

Red growled, the light of his one eyelight blazing like a bonfire in his skull. "yeah..." He pulled out his pistol, spinning the chamber to make it click rapidly. The noise sent a thrill up Impulse's spine. "look at'cha, goin' nuts just seein' ol' lucy here. i ever tell ya how fuckin' swell ya are? how good ya look. yer why we call th' pretty ones dishes- just wanna lick ya clean."

Impulse felt heat crawling up his neck to spread across his face. It was one thing to know Red liked him, it was another to hear him talk like that (dated slang be damned).

Red brought the pistol down to Impulse's quivering magic. "cleaned 'r up just fer ya. then got her all messy again makin' sure i got my message across..."

Impulse didn't quite register that, too busy grinding into the lukewarm metal.

"never woulda pegged ya fer this," Red admitted. "gotta say, i lucked out real big." He started to rub the barrel into Impulse's clit, making little circles that had Impulse's toes curling. "cmon, doll, do it, cum fer me. i know ya wanna, cmon..."

Impulse did come, shuddering with it, his vision fuzzing out and overloading with the flash of distant stars. Impulse heard Red snarl, then felt the press of something warm and thick against his magic, rutting, slicking up on his juices before pressing inside.

"fuck-!"

Impulse held still, trembling, waiting, wanting more. Red eased in slow, breathing heavy. "oh, stars, oh fuck-, babe, ya feel so-" Impulse clenched around Red, making him moan through clenched teeth.

Impulse was still dizzy from his afterglow, but the sound of Red falling apart was delightful in every way.

Red started to thrust, slow, shallow, careful. The dragging friction had Impulse at a disadvantage, screaming silently with a useless voice as he was torn apart by pleasure.

Impulse found out just how much stamina his Red had, and he was not disappointed when his last coherent memory was of Red's blissed-out face in the first rays of dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> impulse: i have a kink and i want to explore it  
> red: -clutches chest- i can, have, and will kill for you


	27. Day 26: Lust and Love 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Stripping | ~~Scat~~ | Burnplay  
>  **Kinks:** Teasing, Kissing, Shotgunning; Orgasm Control; Dirty Talk; Biting; Scars  
>  **Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; weed  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.5k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prequel on [Day 12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/65813902)

Dance hadn't moved much beyond a few exhausted twitches in the last few minutes, hadn't made more than a few sleepy wimpers. Lust let go of his wrists, cupping his sweet, agonized face and nuzzling their frontal bones together. Dance had most certainly passed out, leaving him drenched in various fluids and trembling. Lust kissed him sweetly, admiring the state of his darling, his baby, his Dance. He looked so good, glittering like a jewel in their sweat-soaked sheets, the finest artwork, bearing Lust's teeth marks in his bones like the most intimate signature of a proud artist. Lust slowly eased himself off of Dance's dick, groaning as he was unplugged and the sheer amount of Dance's cum in him made itself known. Lust slumped to the side, giving himself a moment to breathe, to adjust.

Red loomed over Lust, his gentle, ever gentle claws scratching lightly over his skull. "get it all out o' yer system, sweetheart?"

Not by a long shot, if the way Red's voice made his magic twitch was any indication. Lust shook his head, making grabby hands for Red. He was tired, so tired, but his soul refused to rest. Red, sweetheart that he was, scooped Lust up into his lap, bringing him right into kissing distance. Red whimpered, melting into Lust's advances as he always did, giving him exactly what he wanted.

Wonderful man. Loving man. Stupid man. Lust was going to eat him alive. Lust loved him so much.

A bit of awkward squirming had Lust straddling Red's lap, his legs spread so he could grind into Red's bulge. Red's shorts were definately going to be ruined, Lust immediately feeling the old fabric soak clean through. Red, also quickly ruined, hissed at the sudden stimulation, clutching at Lust's hips with the hand not holding the blunt. "fuck-!!"

"yeah, sweetheart~ we'll be doing a lot of that~" Lust promised, looping one arm around Red's neck and clinging to his collar with the other. "you were so patient for me~" Lust cooed in Red's acoustic meatus, giving him a soft kiss. "so caring~ you take such good care of us, you know that?" Red's eyelight fuzzed out even more, completely losing its shape to a mist of color. "now it's your turn, sweetheart~ gonna-" He paused, fumbling blindly to take the blunt he'd left with Red out of his hand. He pulled it to his teeth, taking a long drag before kissing Red deeply, sharing the smoke. Red made a soft, satisfied noise, putting both arms around Lust and holding him close. Lust made sure to smother the blunt out on his femur before tossing it in the general direction of the floor, groaning at the burn.

With all hands now free, Lust pulled out of the kiss, shifting so both hands were on Red's broad, powerful chest. He felt a rumble in his own ribs as he reminded himself of Red's shape, how even through his clothes he was so defined, bones both solid and delicate all at once. Lust wanted to lavish every inch of him in attention. "gonna kiss you all over," he murmured, using his wrists to open Red's coat more, sliding it over his shoulders to pool around his wrists. As eager as he was, Red's coat was special and needed preserved.

Actually, he really should be gentle with all of Red's clothes, even the older ones. Red always got so anxious about wasting things, Lust couldn't do that to his sweetheart out of the blue. Maybe they could talk about clothes that it was okay to rip off of him like cheap tissue paper, unwrap Red with all the enthusiasm unwrapping a gift like him _deserved_. Now, though... Now, Red needed unwrapped more carefully, stripped bare with tenderness.

Lust eased Red's arms out of his coat, pulling his wrists up to kiss and nibble. He could feel regular grooves in the bone just under Red's carpals, crescent curves rubbed in smooth, steady angles that crisscrossed roughly on occasion. It reminded him how Red had worn those cuffs before. Were those scars older or had Lust just never paid attention? _Nobody got to leave marks in his sweetheart except him and his baby, Red was his, Red was-_

"uh-" Red's voice brought Lust's attention back to his face, covered in sweat and furrowed with the most adorable confusion. "s-some'n' wrong?"

Lust smiled, nuzzling into Red's palm. "not anymore, sweetheart," he assured. "i'm gonna make it all better." He kissed at Red's metacarpals, then his carpals, then the cute bony protrusions of his radius and ulna, all the while keeping eye contact with Red. His cute boyfriend seemed to get more and more flustered by the second, squirming under him, his breathing becoming slower, more ragged, as the flush deepened over his face. The light shimmered on his false tooth artistically. Lust leaned in to kiss it too. He loved Red so much, his sweetheart deserved to be loved on, to feel good about his everything. "gonna kiss you everywhere," Lust promised, enjoying the little gasps escaping on Red's more erratic panting.

Lust finally let go of Red's wrists, taking hold of his shirt and slowly pulling it up, like a theatre curtain revealing the stage of a great play. Red's jersey came up easily, and Red- the sweet, accommodating man, _Lust loved him so much, so fucking much, he was going to eat him alive, just devour him, fuck him so hard the bed breaks-_ raised his arms up to let Lust pull it off altogether and toss it away. "love you~" Lust assured. "love you so much~ gonna- gonna-" Lust threaded his fingers through Red's ribs, tracing along the exposed striations, the cuts, the chips. He felt the tingling buzz of Red's welling magic, a chill and a heat all at once that drove Lust crazy. "gonna take all of you. gonna make you feel so good~" It might as well have been a promise. Lust punctuated his assurances with a gyration of his hips, grinding down on Red's still trapped and tender magic.

"fuck-" Red swore, clutching at Lust's hips again, this time with both hands.

"yeah," Lust agreed before biting down on Red's clavicle, pushing all the intent he could muster into the tips of his teeth, wanting to burn his love into Red like a brand. Red swore again, bucking mindlessly, but Lust didn't mind it. Red responded so good to his touch, he was so responsive, so handsome. Lust started to grind into him harder, faster, his hand sneaking down to stroke at Red's lumbar. Red trembled, twitching more in Lust's hand, against his body, the crimson of his magic flaring brighter and brighter until-

Until that lovely crimson turned to soft verdant light, and Red's grit teeth relaxed, letting free all the delicious noises Red made when Lust did his job right.

Lust unclenched his teeth, releasing Red from his bite. He licked his teeth, looking up at his sweet, amazing boyfriend. Red was aglow with color, flushed and sweaty and barely there.

"love you so much," Lust assured him. "love you. you're so wonderful. gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart, gonna make you come so much..." He shifted, getting out of Red's lap just long enough to guide Red into a lying position, right next to where Dance was still resting. Lust took hold of Red's shorts and pulled them off, admiring the mess of purple and blue and red staining the fabric in the crotch before tossing them aside.

Red's dick was at attention, stiff and drenched in its own pre as well as the slick from Lust's grinding. Lust groaned, snuggling himself between Red's legs and kissing the length of it. "gonna love on you all over," he assured Red, licking at the heated construct. Red moaned above him, hips twitching eagerly for more. Lust stroked him lovingly before starting to swallow Red down, inch by inch.

Paying close attention to his twitching and moaning (delicious, beautiful, resplendent, Red was so wonderful, Lust loved him so fucking much, loved him so much), Lust sucked and licked and otherwise enjoyed Red's dick, moaning around him. Red's one claw settled on the back of Lust's head, scratching desperately. Lust purred, nibbling a little before pulling off. He crawled up Red to kiss him properly, letting him taste his own sweetness as Lust lined himself up to take Red inside him.

If Lust had any sort of ego, the noise Red made as Lust impaled himself on his dick would have stroked it to rapt attention. "yeah, baby, gonna make you feel so good... love you. gonna fuck your brains out."

Red hiccuped, quivering, gaze distant and anguished. Lust nuzzled him, clenching around Red just to hear him cry out. Lust cupped his face and kissed him again, bracing his arm by Red's head.

Then Lust started to thrust his hips, slow at first, then faster. He was going to wring Red absolutely dry. And he had the rest of the night to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more on [Day 28](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66545815)~ <3


	28. Day 27: Red gets to be a Sadist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Public sex | Role reversal | Xenophilia  
>  **Kinks:** Bondage; Socket Fucking; Orgasm Denial; Toys; Degredation; Dirty Talk; Collars; Leashes; Empathic Bonds  
>  **Pairing:** Rust (Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.4k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resonance style Rust owo <333

"can't believe i let'cha talk me int' this," Red growled, yanking on the leash wrapped twice around his metacarpals. It was pulled taunt for a few seconds before Red heard the crunch of feet stumbling in the snow, the soft whimper of Lust holding back against one of his perversions.

Snowdin in Underlust was rather normal during daylight hours, but after the lights went out it became a somewhat different kind of place. Everyone knew to be home by 'sunset' on fridays unless you wanted to participate in a whole fucking lot of public kink play. Around them, other couples (and polys) were out and about, kissing, putting each other on display.

Red had never gone out in this universe at this time before. He'd never had any inclination.

But there was something too very tempting about Lust giving him the leash. There was something too tempting about letting these fuckers know who Lust belonged to, who they'd have to answer to if they sent him home with even a scratch.

Red looked over his shoulder, inspecting his pet: Lust had his wrists bound behind his back, blindfold obscuring his vision. His stance was off balance, legs spread awkwardly to keep himself from falling over. His chest heaved, the jostling of Lust's hurried rebalancing having made his vest slide down to hang low on his arms, exposing the ends of his clavicle more clearly. Lust's collar wasn't equipped with a ring for the leash, so the thing was looped around it and clipped onto itself, letting Red lead him blindly through the metaphorical streets. Red let it hang loose while Lust caught his breath, giving him a moment to shift his weight again so he wouldn't fall over in the snow on the next tug.

When Red wanted the slut in the snow, he'd put him there himself.

"c'mon, slut, yer th' one wut wanted t' go on this fuckin' walk," Red growled, smirking at the way Lust shivered, at the echo of _arousal_ and _love_ and _need_. Lust was a sweaty mess and they'd hardly even started. Red would never admit it out loud, but it was something real fucking nice, seeing his sweetheart get all hot and bothered by just the anticipation of what Red was going to do to him.

Trusting idiot. Lust was wide open to being attacked and the only thing keeping him safe was Red.

Idiot.

Red yanked on the leash again, pulling it slow so Lust was forced to close the distance between them. He gripped Lust's chin, thumbing at his blunt teeth. "ya feel 'm fuckers watchin'?" he asked in a low voice.

Lust leaned forward, nuzzling his face in the crook of Red's neck. Another pulse of _love_ , of _trust_ , of _want_ , hit Red like a freight train. Lust was purring, stuttered and soft. "please..."

Red growled lower. "shut th' fuck up." He wasn't done. Not by a long shot. Red reached down, unbuttoning Lust's pants and hooking his fingers roughly through his obturator foramen. Lust moaned, bucking into his hand, trying to fuck himself on Red's fingers. Red held him firm, tightening the tension of the leash, making Lust stand up straight. Red shook off the echoes of Lust's emotions, his _arousal_ , his _desperation_ , his _want_. Instead, Red coaxed Lust's magic roughly, demanding, shaping it into a pussy to be put on display in the chill night air. He spread Lust's slit open, making him shift his legs to spread out wider, forcing him on his toes so he wouldn't choke.

Lust trembled, radiating heat, the air around his dripping slit starting to fog up. Red continued to tease his clit, glaring at the passersby who were starting to congregate, to watch. Red hoped they liked what they saw, because they weren't getting any of it while he was there.

Lust was _his_ slut. Lust was _his_ responsibility, _his_ sweetheart, _his_ -

"red, i'm-"

Red pinched Lust's clit, using just the very tips of his claws to suggest pain. "th' fuk ya call me?"

Lust was starting to drool. "m-master, i'm gonna come if you-"

"who th' fuck said ya got t' do that, eh? whore. control yerself." But Red pulled his hand away, looking at the slime clinging to his phalanges, glistening purple that smelled like sweet grapes and plum wine. "what a slut. this riled up with a lil' scritch?"

The echoes of Lust's _arousal_ and _want_ were stronger and faster than ever, almost the same constant hum as his _affection_. Lust didn't have anything to say to Red's taunting, body trembling, looking ethereal, surrounded by steam.

Red stuck his fingers close to Lust's mouth. "clean up yer mess, yer fuckin' disgustin'," he ordered, knowing if he left the slick there he'd-

He'd want to-

No, fuck that. Lust made the fucking mess, Lust could clean it up.

Lust sucked on Red's fingers eagerly, shamelessly. Red saw flashes of his soft purple tongue, felt the silky damp flutters of it against his bones. Red sure as fuck wasn't blushing, nope, it was just cold. He grabbed that tongue, thumbing at the tip, feeling it squirm, feeling Lust's soft noises quiver through it, before pulling his hand away. He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two bullet vibes, one of which was on a clip. He shoved the one into Lust and clipped the other onto his clit, pausing to admire the way the magic let him see the shape inside, how it shifted with every nervous, needy flutter of Lust's ecto. Then he pulled Lust's pants back up and buttoned them, finally letting Lust relax from his stress position.

Of course, that didn't mean Lust got to relax. On the contrary, Red immediately turned both toys on to their maximum setting, his soul fluttering at the rush of emotions and the scream both ripped from Lust's body.

The fun thing about conventional sex toys, Red had learned (the hard way), was that they lacked the intent needed to make a monster climax. Red could leave those fuckers on all night, and Lust would never get to come. Red could feel it, how painfully close his pet was to release, the agony of it, the rush of it. Lust danced in the snow, thrashing uselessly as he fought the limits of his own makeup, trying to orgasm when there was nothing to get him there, only the torment of the glass ceiling on his pleasure.

The shoe was on the other fucking foot tonight, and Red was going to enjoy every god damn motherfucking second of it.

Red gave a light tug to the leash this time, as much to make sure Lust didn't choke or fall over as it was to make sure the sparks of Red's intent didn't tip him over the edge prematurely. "c'mon, this fuckin' walk o yers only just started."

"r- master-!!" Lust's voice was damp and slurred, like he was drunk, like he had never spoken a word that wasn't begging Red for mercy.

"shut th' fuck up, 'n _walk_ " Red snapped, giving another light tug. Lust took one shaky, uneven step, then another, trembling and somewhat stooped. His hips kept gyrating, uneven, inelegant motions that looked nothing like his usual confident, composed seductions. The sloppiness, the desperation, just made Red think this was the most beautiful Lust had ever been.

Not that Red thought Lust was beautiful or anything. He was ok looking. Not that Red looked at him much. Or at all. And certainly not enough to give a damn about _how_ he looked. They weren't dating. Red didn't even like him. He absolutely wasn't taking a picture, that wasn't his phone in his hand. He wasn't taking a video either. He wasn't drooling. He wasn't in love.

Fuck. Red couldn't even lie to himself convincingly about this. Why did he bother?

Red walked backwards slowly, leading Lust down the center of town, filming every torturous step his pet took through the snow. Lust was glistening in the lights thrown by the neon sign of the bar, the giftmas lights, the beams of warm gold leaking through the windows of the shop and inn. Shadows clawed themselves over his exposed lumbar. His own body heat misted the chill air around him, like a spirit, like a ghost, like a vision meant only for Red, and damn anyone else who caught a glimpse because Red was the only one who got to touch that tonight.

Red could hear the strain of the leather cuffs as Lust tugged on them, his need for relief getting increasingly more _urgent_ with every passing moment, with every teasing, useless step. Red felt a purr rumble, soft and ticklish, in his own ribs, flipping off another group of voyeurs who looked like they were considering participation.

Lust stumbled over a patch of uneven ground near the town welcome sign. He took two clumsy strides before he sank to his knees, whimpering. He spread his legs wider, sinking down as low as his flexibility allowed, trying to grind into the ground for friction that still would not get him anywhere. Gleaming amethyst tears finally seeped from under the blindfold, sliding over his cheekbones before dripping into the snow, splattering with a wet hiss as hot met cold.

Red swallowed salivation that had built up behind his teeth, his hand holding his phone steady despite the tremor that wracked his own frame.

"master, please," Lust rasped, sobbed. "let me come..!"

Red wrapped the leash tighter around his hand as he got closer, careful to keep the pressure taunt and even. "how bad ya wanna come, slut?"

"so bad," Lust answered eagerly. "so bad, i want it, i need it, i need you, pl-" he cut off when Red pulled the leash tighter, making him sit up straight. Red summoned a blaster to hold the leash in place, keeping it the exact tension he wanted while freeing one of his hands.

Red crouched down, letting the camera of his phone wander down, then up, Lust's trembling body. "beggin' a'ready..? useless, needy, whore. can't take ya nowhere, can i?" Red picked up a bit of snow, feeling it in his hand. It was light and powdery, perfect for what he wanted to do. He tossed it at Lust's exposed spine, watching in delight as it melted on contact, the moisture sliding down Lust's bones to trickle into his pants. Lust cried out at the sudden stimulation, the chill, breathing faster. "chill out," Red half joked, half commanded. "ya dun get t' come till i fuckin' say so, capiche?"

It took Lust a moment to answer, voice soft and ragged, heralding a pulse of _love_ and _desire_ and _trust_ so awful and all consuming it nearly knocked red over. "yes, master."

Red snarled, putting his phone away. He carefully untied the blindfold so he could slide it down to Lust's teeth. "bite this 'n don't fuckin' drop it, whore."

Lust gripped the cloth in his teeth, eyelights hazy, unfocused, and deformed into a rough approximation of a heart reflected on a rippling pond. Red hooked his thumb into Lust's left socket, stroking at the soft, smooth inner ridge. Lust moaned, so loud and raw Red could feel it vibrate in his skull.

Red smirked. "this'll do. let's show them vultures wut only a skeleton like ya gots t' offer, eh?" He shoved his shorts down enough to pull out his own dick, stroking it (biting back a hiss as he gripped his magic with the same hand he used to play with the snow, fuck it was cold-). "let's show 'm wut they aint never gonna get."

Red could feel Lust was _hungry_ for it. The slut leaned forward, straining against his leash to get closer to Red's dick. Red slapped it against his face, watching with ~~a fond delight,~~ a vicious, predatory satisfaction, as Lust nuzzled the tender construct, sending tingles through Red's whole body. Red let himself have a moment to bask in that, in Lust's ~~genuine affection~~ desperate simpering, feeling himself get closer to his own climax from the rush of it.

The Red gripped Lust's skull firmly and thrust his dick into his eye socket.

The inside of Lust's skull was a complex network of magic, of criss-crossing mana lines and swirling vortexes of energy and intent. On Red's ecto, magic made manifest, it was like plunging into a net made of water, filled with spices and heat that soaked and splattered wetly over him.

Under Red, around him, inside him, Lust quaked and shuddered through his sudden, unstoppable release, screaming through his obediently clenched teeth. Red could hear the squelch noise over the buzzing in his pants, but even if he couldn't he would have felt it, electricity and pure chemical-adjacent pleasure shooting through Lust's entire body and converging on Red's submerged dick like a lightning rod. Red doubled over, unable to resist the sudden, powerful demand to orgasm as he felt Lust come from inside him, his magic spasming and so full of _love_ , _devotion_ , _gratitude_ , _relief_ , and the ever burning _need_ that Red was worried he would lose himself to the tide of it.

Red's vision blackened, fuzzed, stuttered as his world was narrowed to the two of them in the snow, sharing an instant of electric, dirty gratification overlaid by the taste of a love Red would never understand the origin of.

When Red was sure of himself next, he blinked down at Lust. Red was still speared to the hilt in Lust's left socket, but Lust's right one was squinted tightly closed. red's cum seeped out from around his dick, spilling down Lust's face like thick red tears.

"heh. came with just one thrust? slut," Red growled, low and far too fond even to his own hearing. He pulled out, dismissing the blaster and taking the leash. "get th' fuk up. yer a fuckin' mess. we're goin' back home."

Lust stood on shaky legs, stumbling to lean on Red for support. Red allowed it, curling a protective arm around Lust's back and supporting his weight with every step.

Red might have needed Lust to help watch where they were going. All the powerful affection coming through the collar was making it hard to see. Red anticipated it would probably be that way until they got home, and Lust got his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i miss these boys despite them being a hot mess


	29. Day 28: Lust and Love 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Crossdressing | Lingerie | Distention  
>  **Kinks:** Collars; Feet; Fellatio; Orgasm Control; Cock Warming; Anal; Swallowing  
>  **Pairing:** Burlesque (Dancetale!Sans / Underfell!Sans / Underlust!Sans)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2.1k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previous on [Day 26](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743756/chapters/66448148).

It had been a few days since Lust's LT Flare-up. Red and Dance had been so sweet and understanding, but it didn't stop Lust from feeling like garbage in the aftermath. Nothing did, not when he gave up on staying in control so easily.

It shouldn't have mattered how wonderful _they_ were... _he_ knew better.

Lust sat on the floor in front of the mirror, looking at himself. He had already called off work, unable and unwilling to get himself together for the day. All he could do was roll around in bed or sit on the floor and stare vacantly.

Lust needed something to shake him out of his funk, and fast, before his boyfriends came home.

After a few more hours (probably -- time didn't exactly feel real when he was this badly off), Lust dragged himself to his closet, pushing open the doors like they were the stone barriers to a great temple. Lust stared into its depths for an indeterminate amount of time before reaching in and perusing his options.

He wasn't feeling the comfy sweatpants. He wasn't feeling the leather either... Lust lamented how most of his clothes were basically that and only that, until his fingers brushed against something fine and silky. He pulled out the soft chemise, getting lost in the soft pastel purple coloration for a time, before pulling it off the hanger. A bit of rummaging in his underwear drawer found him a matching panty set. He had a couple that went well with this one, but the first one he grabbed was the crotchless pair, so that's what he decided he'd wear.

Lust went and took a nice, hot shower, then slipped the chemise over his bones, sighing softly at the texture. He usually filled out the top with a little well-placed ecto, but today he wasn't feeling that. He just wanted the silk.

Lust again stared at himself in the mirror again. At least he looked ok? Maybe?

Maybe he was being silly. Lust went to take another depression nap.

* * *

Lust woke up to hands on him. One was settled on the flare of his hip, kneading gently, sharpened claw tips scratching with each cycle. Another was on his skull, making slow circles in a steady rhythm with the flats of its fingertips. Lust couldn't repress the smile that spread over his face even if he wanted to, feeling a sense of completion before he even opened his sockets.

"welcome home," Lust mumbled, starting to shift himself up to look at his boyfriends.

Red had that soft, goofy smirk on his face, like he'd won a prize, sockets sitting half lidded on his otherwise tired face. "bad day, huh?"

Dance's gaze was harder, more hungry, his hand sliding down to grip Lust's collar and use it to guide him up to Dance's eye level. "ya got dressed up just for us?"

Lust shivered, reminding himself that he had been rough enough with Dance. He let himself go pliant, amenable. "i can change if you prefer," he simpered.

"don't you dare." Dance leaned in, stealing a kiss. Lust let him (he would always let him), reaching up to curl his arms around Dance and hold him close. His familiar, comforting taste, the way his body thrummed with a quiet vibration, like a heartbeat, helped to settle some deep, old anxiety that Lust could never seem to oust from his soul.

When Dance pulled back to let Lust breathe, Red scooped Lust up, settling him in Red's lap. He always fit nicely between Red's splayed legs, back to his chest. Red's arms curled around him like a protective wall, a cubby hole of ameliorating chill and strength. Lust nuzzled against his chest, and against his hand when he brought it up to toy with his collar. As far as Lust was concerned, Red could hold him anytime he wanted.

Dance took hold of Lust's ankles, thumbing at his metatarsals sweetly, making him moan. Dance lingered there, watching Red smooth over Lust's chemise and pet him sweetly (Red was always so sweet on him, so gentle, so amazing, Lust didn't deserve him, he loved him so much-), gaze inescapable and heavy. He stroked over the line from Lust's hallox to his malleolus, then back again, gentle butterfly strokes making Lust's toes curl.

"still sore?" Dance asked, continuing the work of his devilish hand.

"a little," Lust admitted as his sockets drifted shut.

"jus' relax, sweetheart," Red murmured, scritching first at Lust's neck, then down to weedle tension from his shoulder. "we gotcha."

How did Lust get so lucky, that everything his boyfriends did was just... heaven?

Dance moved Lust's legs, slinging and hooking them overtop Red's so that Lust was spread open. Lust didn't think much of it until he heard Dance's low, predatory growl. Lust looked down, only to again be reminded that his panties were crotchless.

"dick. now." Dance demanded, settling between their legs.

Lust shivered, letting his ecto take form at his darling's request. His dick poked out of the opening, but the lace trim tickled his base in a way Lust hadn't anticipated, making him squirm.

Dance took hold of him immediately, stroking Lust's length with both hands. Lust shivered, reaching to grip Dance for support, only to find he didn't have the room to reach that far with how Red was holding him, strapping him to his body with his arm. Lust instead had to clutch at his own legs, trembling as Dance's touch worked him to a fever pitch, and Red's lulled him to a complaisance he was rather sure he did not want to escape.

Dance finally parted his teeth, swallowing Lust's dick down his summoned throat with a practiced finesse that even Lust had to admire. The soft buzz of Dance's tongue on his underside, coupled with the wet pressure when he swallowed and the trembles of his moan, combined to a slow-burning, toe-curling pleasure.

Lust felt the tension in his body melt away, only to be replaced by involuntary spasms. He welcomed the dizzying warmth that spread from his soul, welcomed the static and the white noise, because it meant he could feel those hands (and that tongue-!!) on him better. Lust was rather certain that the only thing holding him up was Red, so relaxed and comfortable and safe he was becoming.

Dance lay down, curling his arms around Lust's and Red's hips, and idly bobbed his head as he settled himself into what Lust lovingly called The Zone. Dance wouldn't be coming up for air anytime soon, trapping Lust in a limbo of stimulation and whatever soothing static made by his intent, a dichotomy that kept shoving him back into a near meditative state of bliss.

"see?" Red murmured, pressing his teeth to Lust's temporal. "we're gotcha... jus-" Red's voice hitched, completely in time with the bolt of pleasure that ripped through Lust thanks to Dance's swallowing. "-j-jus' relax..!" Red's grip on him tightened a bit, his chest heaving against Lust's back in arhythmic bursts.

Lust turned his head, intending to kiss Red on the jaw, but fortune was on his side and he got to nuzzle their teeth together. He felt the spark of Red's magic, an echo in his collar that harmonized with the sparks thrown from his joints and scars. Lust couldn't repress the moan rumbling out of him, leaning a bit harder into that kiss, desperate.

Red reciprocated, purring softly, and Lust thought he'd come right then and there.

Dance pulled his mouth away, far sooner than Lust expected (or wanted, deep down). He smirked, licking his teeth as he looked up at Lust and Red from his spot between their legs. "somethings missing."

Lust sank back down, relaxing back against Red as the tension in his body ebbed. "missing..?"

Dance wiggled back up into a sitting position, scooting forward to grip Lust's hips and squeeze his iliac crests. "yeah..." He leaned forward, taking another kiss for himself as if to sample Red's taste off Lust's teeth, then kissed and nibbled his way down to Lust's shoulder. "there's a hole that i think needs filled up..."

Lust was trying to think beyond how nice Dance's kisses were, but that was hard to do with the way he was at the moment. Lust drank in every little affection, feeling the sparks of it go right to his soul, spasm, then drop to his rather sensitive dick.

"hey, red, how about you fill him up?" Dance suggested.

Lust could hear the grin in Red's voice. "love t'." Red removed one of the arms holding Lust, ticking it down behind him to get into his own pants. Lust could feel the outline of Red's hand moving against his tailbone, hear Red's hitched whimpers as he coaxed his magic to the shape he wanted. The complex mixture of chill and heat that was Red's magic was soon poking him in the back, long and thick and a little damp already.

Lust ground himself back into it, soul fluttering at the noise it earned him.

"ok, hold him while i get him prepped," Dance said, squirming back down to be at eye level with Lust's own magic. Red curled his arms back around Lust, nuzzling his shoulder where the suggestion of Dance's teeth still lingered.

Dance brought the tip of Lust's dick to his teeth and started to lick and suckle the tip, teasing it cruelly, as the fingers of his other hand started working Lust's ass open, bit by bit. Lust could feel himself shake between them, the precipice of his release coming closer much more quickly after having been brought so close before.

Lust had no idea how many times he almost came before Dance pulled his fingers out of him and let his dick have a breather. "he's ready, kitten," the smug, wonderful man purred, wiping his fingers clean on his hoodie, the handsomest slob.

Red shifted to grip Lust by his femurs, lifting him up effortlessly. Lust leaned back further against him, feeling incredibly safe in his hands as he adjusted his position. Soon Lust felt Red's lower head probe his ass, testing the stretch, trying to ease itself into him. Lust would have begged him to go faster, just _slam him down and impale him_ , if Dance hadn't taken his mouth in a heated kiss. Lust gripped onto Dance's hoodie, trying to pull him closer, wanting to feel himself between the two most important loves of his life. Dance took one of his hands, threading their fingers together, his other hand cupping the back of Lust's skull (as if he ever wanted to go anywhere).

Slowly, achingly, deliciously slowly, Lust felt himself slide lower, being stretched open and filled with the cold heat of Red's magic. He felt Dance's grin stretch with every inch, every curse Red wheezed under his breath, left to batter against Lust's neck and slide down his spine. Lust only knew for sure Red had bottomed out when he felt Red let go of his legs, hands sliding up to rub and stroke at Lust's summoned stomach.

Dance finally broke the kiss, nuzzling their foreheads together for a brief moment of shared bliss before pulling back. Lust let his head hang, blinking down at himself. He could see his middle was swollen, the brilliant crimson of Red's ecto shining out from within, the shape of him engorging Lust's otherwise smooth, slender torso. Red's claws were stroking over the bump, compressing the pressure from the outside and making Lust's magic warm further. His hands were dripping in intent meant to soothe, to cherish, and it was driving Lust mad.

Dance kissed Lust's weeping tip, making his insides clench. Red, behind him, whimpered, his hips bucking under Lust, churning his insides sweetly, roughly, perfectly. "color?" Dance checked in, the darling, the tease.

"or'nge," Red mumbled, sounding like he was barely hanging on.

"orange!" Lust assured him.

Dance smirked wide as a cheshire cat, then parted his teeth to again devour Lust's dick. Lust threw his head back, coming almost immediately, his vision blurring. Red's hands still dripped in his desire to soothe, to help, to love, but Dance's tongue was more aggressive: it was demanding of Lust's pleasure, demanding of his satisfaction and his well being. Red wanted to help Lust feel beautiful, feel wanted and worthy, while Dance all but ripped those feelings out of him, burning hot like a brand, like salt in a wound, sharp and sudden and wonderful all at once.

Lust felt Dance settle in for the long haul through his dizzying afterglow, his teeth gnawing lightly before starting to suck in earnest. Trusted, clawed hands held Lust safely upright, letting him settle himself to endure, to enjoy every brilliant moment feeling, for once, like he was worthy of love. How could he not, when his boyfriends made him feel this wonderful?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen  
> listen give them all love
> 
> i know this ends abruptly but if i didnt it would just be paragraph after paragraph of lust feeling edged to hell and happy about it XD


	30. Day 29: Monster in the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Praise kink | Glory hole | ~~Telepathic bonds~~  
>  **Kinks:** Tentacles; Oral; Sounding; Orgasm Control  
>  **Pairing:** Crightmoss (Nightmare/Cross)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity  
>  **Length in Words:** ~2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its be mean to cross 2020 and not enough being mean to cross has happened this year

Kink leaned against the wall, the picturesque seductive pose making the fluff of his vest puff up more around his shoulders. "here we are~!"

"...here we are?" Cross parroted, still not sure what 'here' was or why they were there.

"it's the friendship cubby," Kink specified, sliding his hand down to hook two fingers into a hole that Cross hadn't even noticed (the walls were black as pitch, with only the slightest color in the shine if the meager light hit just right, how was he supposed to notice a shade of black among the rest of the black?!), pulling it open to show the snug half-closet within. The ceiling was low, four feet at most, meaning most would have to crawl around the area on their hands and knees. There were a number of soft-looking cushions, towels, and a half used roll of paper towels that sat next to a half full wastebasket. There was also a pile of water bottles in the corner. "you sit in here and you make friends with whoever comes by to visit~"

"uh..." Cross crawled inside, kicking off his shoes and setting them against the inner wall so he could use the cushions more comfortably. "how does that work?"

"the glory hole, of course," Kink said with a smile.

Cross stiffened, suddenly feeling like he was sitting in the mouth of a beast, as opposed to a hole in the wall.

"oh, don't be so dramatic," Kink waved it off. "you don't have to if you don't want to, sweetie, but i'm telling you, it's a great way to make friends. just sit in here and lock the latch until you're done, and have fun~"

Seeing the latch on the inside of the door as opposed to the outside set something in Cross at ease. He looked around again. "was this cleaned since..?"

Kink shook his head. "i just got this installed, so it hasn't needed cleaned yet. i'll do the cleanup when you're done, don't worry about that either."

Cross nodded dumbly. "ok... so... you made this all so i would-??"

"oh, i plan on using it later, it won't be _just_ for you~ unless you want it to be~"

Cross flushed. "no- that's fine, just- keep it clean-!!"

Kink giggled, closing the door on Cross. "don't forget to hydrate, ok~ have fun~" There was a scratching noise from outside a moment, then Cross heard Kink's footsteps get fainter. Cross was left alone in the dark crawlspace, left alone with his thoughts and the nervousness that came with knowing what he was doing.

The (glory) hole was the size of a soda can, letting in more of the light that was just starting to actually illuminate the castle. Not every hall had the electric lamps installed yet, and certainly not this one, but the window nearby had been opened and the light from the infinite white of the antivoid filtered through and scattered enough to shine dimly down on Cross's face. He stared out into it, feeling the dull dark encroach from all sides like a blanket, wondering if Kink was teasing him and this was just a way to get Cross to sit stupid and quiet in a closet as a prank.

Then he heard footsteps, slow and steady, which got louder until they stopped entirely. A shape blocked the hole, cutting off Cross's lightsource until a new one took its place. It was long, thick, glowing a deep burning red as it slid into the hole, drooping slightly under its own weight. Cross had never been that close to another person's dick before. He stared at it, uncertain, until he reached out to start stroking it, trying to figure out what else he should do.

The soft shaft throbbed in Cross' hand, and Cross heard a muffled groan from the other side of the wall. He took his time feeling out the shape of it, watching the light play between his fingers. The tip was weeping pre by the time Cross worked up the nerve to put it in his mouth (or what little of it he could fit, which wasn't as much as he would have liked). He bobbed his head, using his hand to stroke the rest of the warm, buzzing length.

This was supposed to be, what, hot? Arousing? Cross didn't feel much of anything, really, just disappointed. He was expecting something a bit more fulfilling, he supposed. Sure, he was rather certain the guy was about to blow his load down Cross's throat, but Cross wasn't feeling it.

Was this really what it was like? Was it this unsatisfying for everyone?

" _What are you doing?_ "

Cross screamed, startled by the voice coming suddenly from behind him. The dick in his mouth came violently in response, splattering Cross all over in bloody red jizz as he flinched away, squeezing the base in his fright. Cross turned, the dick still in his vice grip, to see the single violet eyelight of Nightmare to his left.

"what the _fuck_ , how did you-" Cross swore before he could stop himself.

" _This is my castle, I can come and go as I please,_ Nightmare reminded him, sitting down on a cushion and pulling over a water bottle. He casually twisted off the cap with a tendril, taking a drink as Cross watched, the writhing, preternatural shapes of his body shimmering damp, in stark contrast in the dim red light.

Cross felt his magic pool in his pelvis with a sudden wet heat.

" _Cross. Cross? (Non mihi audit...) Cross???_ "

Cross shook himself. "huh?"

" _Answer: What are you doing here?_ "

Cross finally let go of the dick in his hand, pulling the paper towels over to wipe his face. "it was kink's idea," he mumbled as the dick left the glory hole, and the footsteps retreated down the hall.

Nightmare drank the water idly in that strange way of his, sliding a tendril into the bottle to soak it up like a straw. Cross wondered if he could do that with other kinds of moisture. " _And you do this, despite making a feast of yourself for me?_ "

"i-"

" _Yes, you._ " A tendril reached over, pressing itself to Cross' cheek. A bit of damp he'd just been about to wipe at was drained away. When Cross' brain caught up with the fact that Nightmare had drunk cum off Cross' face, the equilibrium was restored by the gush ruining Cross' shorts from the inside. " _...You seem to be less delicious with my presence. How odd... perhaps I should leave-_ "

"no- uh-" Fuck. Cross felt the paper towel tear in his hands. "i mean, i'd- i'd prefer it if you... stayed..?"

That single, terrible, awful eyelight took Cross and held him captive in the dark. Nightmare's cruel grin spread. " _...Very well... But if I must stay... then you will be my feast. Is this a deal?_ "

Cross gulped. "...deal."

" _Then it is agreed,_ " Nightmare purred, right before tendrils snapped forward, tangling Cross' limbs, sliding under his clothes.

Cross used to fear the touch of those tentacles more than anything else. More than death, more than murder, he knew them to bring nothing but the deepest, most devastating agony and terror. Now, now their touch was a different kind of agony, a different kind of terror, knowing they could smell how painfully aroused he was, knowing they could read the deepest desires of his soul with every slick, wet slide of their soft squirming-

Cross whimpered, and found that his wrists were bound behind him, unable to cover his teeth or what was most likely his very flushed face.

Cross heard newly approaching footsteps, softer, more steady and light, but very much there over the pound of his fluttering soul. A few moments later, a new dick had entered the gloryhole, this time shining a vivid orange. Cross leaned forward since he now lacked the use of his hands, nuzzling the soft surface with his teeth. The scent that flooded his senses was sweet, sweet and fruity and painfully familiar.

The orange slowly gave way to pink as Cross watched.

Tendrils slid their way between Cross's ribs, tangling him up, and then lower to grind against the dripping, trembling bulge he'd been suffering with. He felt his pants loosen, letting his dick spring free, only to feel it speared through, a tendril working its way through the hole in the tip, invading his inner magic in ways it was not meant to be invaded. Cross bit down on the dick by his mouth, moaning as he shook in his nest of cushions and towels and tentacles.

The dick in his mouth came, spraying him in fragrant, sweet magic, staining him shades of pink on one side.

Nightmare chuckled. " _What a well behaved little cumslut you are. However, I think you can do better... Try actually putting it in your mouth the right way, this time._ " As he spoke, a tendril began to tease Cross' ass.

Cross whined, unclenching his teeth and leaning back. It took a few tries, but he managed to get the dick down his throat, swallowing, trying to ease it down further as he bobbed his head.

" _Good. See? You always were the most obedient, weren't you Cross? Always so accommodating, when treated correctly... A good boy._ " Those last words were punctuated by the tendril thrusting itself into Cross' ass.

Cross couldn't tell if it was better his moan was muffled by the magic in his mouth or not. His whole body was on fire, drenched in sweet, sticky cum, his own sweat, and the slime that Nightmare still dripped in more often than not. Cross could only smell sugar and salt and apples now, could only feel the wriggling of those all-powerful tentacles playing with his bones, the merciful warm magic on his tongue, the pressure holding his dick and his soul hostage. He started to squirm, moving his whole body in the hopes of making more friction for the person on the other side of the wall, trying to suck every drop of magic out of them.

All the while, the creature lurking in the dark whispered dangerously against his skull. " _That's right, Cross. What a good little minion, so well trained, well behaved. You're doing very good. Very good. A good boy..._ " A new tentacle started to stroke over Cross' skull, petting him, keeping the slick from his sockets. The touch was almost affectionate (if Cross let himself believe that).

" _I can feel it, you know,_ " Nightmare continued. " _They're overjoyed at your performance. They're loving it, loving how good you're treating them... Can you taste it too? Can you taste how much they enjoy you? How badly they would love to be doing to you exactly what I'm doing to you now?_ " At that, Nightmare started to stroke Cross' shaft with his hand, his tendrils squirming inside him with wild abandon, slamming into his tender inner magic hard enough to make him see stars.

Cross cried out around his gag, only to feel cum splash down his throat and out from between his teeth a split second later. His hips trembled, thrusting uselessly up when he knew it would do nothing to help him escape (when he wasn't even sure he wanted to).

The dick retreated from the glory hole, leaving Cross to slump into the door, coughing wetly. A tendrip wiped at his cheek, soft, gentle.

" _Good boy._ "

The tendril sounding Cross' dick left it with a sudden snap, and Cross came, adding yet more cum to the inside of his shorts.

That was the last thing Cross knew before he woke up in his personal room, naked, clean, and still trembling from the aftershocks. There was a water bottle on his bedside table, a blanket over his quivering, sensitive bones. He could almost feel the imprint of fingertips against his forehead. Cross sat up slowly, touching his sweaty face half expecting his fingers to come away in pink.

He was only a little disappointed when they didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was it a dream?
> 
> or did cross just sleep through the aftercare?
> 
> :3


	31. Day 30: Cross' Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Sex Toys | Deep-throating | Stuck in wall  
>  **Kinks:** Orgasm Denial; Sounding; Crying; Sacrum Lacing; Kissing  
>  **Pairing:** Cross (Xtale!Sans) / Everyone  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; light dubcon  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.8k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE MEAN TO CROSS 2020

Cross tried for the umpteenth time to free himself, kicking his legs and tugging at his very stuck arms. After a few moments of teeth-gritting strain, he sighed, giving up: he was well and truly stuck. He was encased in the wall by his midriff, his arms submerged in the wall at his sides. He'd been stuck there for a while, but he had no idea exactly how long aside from long enough to make the necessity of standing on his toes somewhat of a strain.

Killer rounded the corner carrying a paper bag. He almost walked right past Cross, likely taking him as just another weird wall decoration that had started going up since the shift in management. Cross tried holding still to be less noticeable, but Killer stopped, inspected him a moment too long, and then grinned like a kid at giftmas.

"oh my god-" Killer might have had more to say if he hadn't devolved into hysterical giggling, dropping the bag to his feet with a soft thud.

Cross waited it out (as if he had any other choice in the matter). "are you done yet?"

Killer wiped watery grey tears from his sockets. "i- i- yeah i think i'm good." he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "so how did this happen?"

Cross considered lying, but there would be no benefit to it (and someone might decide that was licence to extend his punishment). "i asked nightmare if he needed his wings trimmed yet."

Killer shook with more laughter. "you idiot."

"shut up and help me get out of this."

Killer bent down to pick up the bag, considering his options. "hmmmmmm. nah." He continued walking down the hall, rounding the corner.

"hey. hey! don't just leave me here, you asshole!" Cross struggled again, like maybe this time it would work. "get back here, stabby, and stab the god damn wall!"

Killer was out of sight. Cross sagged again, feeling alone. He wasn't going to cry, god damn it. He was fine, just stuck, helpless, and vulnerable. His sockets burned.

Then he felt hands on his hip, on the other side of the wall. Cross gasped, kicking out blindly. He never landed a hit, someone grabbing his ankles and holding them firmly.

"hey- h-hey!!" Cross wished he at least had his hands to bang on the wall. "who's back there?!"

The hands squeezed his ankles firmly, then lowered them back to the floor. A moment later, he felt tugging at his shorts. Cross tensed, a high pitched screech ripping out of his throat. "hey! hey what the fuck are you-" The tugging and shifting increased in ferocity, before stopping entirely. Cross sagged in relief, only to gasp as he felt his clothes go oddly loose and fall away. 

"oh."

Oh dear. Oh fuck.

Hands began wandering idly over Cross' now bare bones, up and down his legs and over his pelvis. The gentle touches had no malicious intent to them, almost soothing in their way. Cross took a deep breath, letting himself calm down. He was okay. Whatever was back there wasn't going to hurt him. He was fine, he was _fine_.

Something soft tickled his sacrum. String? Or ribbon? It felt long and noodly, but a little damp..?

It then slid itself _into his sacrum foramen, holy fuck-_ Cross cried out, wishing so very badly he had hands to try and muffle himself. Half the castle probably heard that. Fuck, _fuck-_ The stringy stuff slid into another of his holes, shooting lightning-sharp pleasure up his trapped spine. The surface burned, as if coated in spices, the tingling only enhancing the sensation on those sensitive surfaces. It continued to be threaded through him, grinding itself in as the excessive length of it was pulled out one hole and into another.

Cross was seeing stars. The intent from that thread was driving him mad: unfathomable fondness and a desperate desire to please and pleasure. Cross was no longer afraid of being alone: he was afraid of being overwhelmed.

"oh, fuck-"

Pleasure assaulted him as the long, wet thread wove itself through his foramen, slowly working down the line, then back up again. Cross tried so, so hard to keep quiet (the castle was still dangerous), but damn it that wasn't hard when his entire system was being overloaded. It almost felt like he was having his sacrum electrocuted, as intense as it was.

The string was drawn taunt, then loosened and began to squirm against him as if it were alive.

Cross' dick snapped into place, his soul throbbing. He thought his vision was starting to blur, but it was hard to tell in the dim light with so little to focus on. A hand curled around his shaft, stroking it sweetly, cool skeletal fingers a balm to his fevered pseudoflesh.

The rod pressed into his analogue for a urethra was _not_ soothing, not soothing at all. Cross screamed, thrashing, legs trembling. He didn't think he wanted to kick whoever was back there at this point: they'd been giving him nothing but caring, affectionate intent. Cross just couldn't hold still or keep quiet.

The string tugged and squirmed and writhed, shaking Cross up from the inside. He could barely think of anything aside from the mind numbing pleasure and the quickly building orgasm that would be denied him so long as that stupid rod was in his dick. He struggled to stay on his feet, but slick was starting to coat the floor (his sweat? excess magic dripping from somewhere? who the fuck knew) and he lost his grip, slipping. Someone caught his legs, holding him up by his knees.

There were too many hands to be just one person.

"oh fuck-!!"

Cross was almost glad to be stuck in the wall, if only because he was so dizzy he was sure to have fallen over otherwise.

Those hands stroked his legs, supporting him. He felt like he was on fire. _People were looking at him, helpless and aroused and a squirming mess-_

Wait. Those hands were aligned differently. That felt different. What angle were they-

Cross moaned, useless and humiliating, as someone began to swallow down his dick, sucking on his magic and squeezing him with their false throat. The supportive hands gently shifted him so his legs hooked over that person's shoulders, giving Cross a seat to rest on as he was mercilessly devoured.

"fuck- fuck-!!"

The string continued to squirm, threaded back and forth to rub burning pleasure into his sacrum from the inside. That mouth had him at its mercy. Hands soothed over his legs and pelvic wings. All the while, Cross thrashed and strained, wanting escape, wanting mercy, wanting more.

Footsteps approached on the side of the wall Cross' head was sticking out from. Cross couldn't quite focus to see who it was, only that they were shorter than average.

"oh! oops! wrong side!" Ink giggled, finally revealing himself through sound. He stood inches from Cross, smiling at him with false earnest.

"i-ink??" Fuck. "ink, there's-" Cross cut off as a particularly strong wave of pleasure ruined his composure, making him moan. "-there's someone in the room where i-"

"oh, i know!" Ink hummed. "do i go left or right? this place is huge! i'm already late for the party!"

"p-party??" Cross wasn't following.

"INK??" Blue called from down the hall, getting closer. "THERE YOU ARE! YOU ARE MISSING THE FUN!"

"no i'm not!" Ink gestured at Cross. "see? look! it's the best part!"

Blue crept closer, cupping Cross' cheek and thumbing at it. Cross blinked, trying to focus on him. It was hard, his vision was blurry as fuck and his mind kept being pulled back to the massive amount of pleasure being carved into him, sucked out of him. "HE IS MAKING THE NICEST EXPRESSION! CAN YOU HEAR US, CROSS?"

"y-yeah-!!" Cross hated how his voice hitched. He felt something against his hip now, smooth and soft. It was starting to vibrate.

"GOOD! JUST CHECKING IN: ARE YOU COMFORTABLE?"

 _Was_ Cross comfortable? He- he couldn't think, he couldn't feel anything but pressure and pleasure and the intent being branded into his bones by hands that just wanted to make him feel-

A finger was starting to stir the magic still heavy and wet in his pelvic inlet. It coaxed, curling, demanding a shape Cross rarely ever made. Cross whimpered as he gave in, letting them guide his magic into a dripping, embarrassingly slick slit, which was then stretched and teased until his toes curled.

"CROSS?"

Cross tried to make a noise, but all that came out was a humiliating moan. He was sure his face was burning.

"i think he's in subway."

"SUBSPACE."

"we're in a void, not space???"

"INK, PLEASE, I AM TRYING TO BE SEXY, HERE."

"you're always sexy. the memes say so."

"AWAY WITH YOU." Blue didn't sound as angry as he probably wanted to. In a gentler, lower voice, Blue leaned in to murmur in Cross' acoustic meatus. "WE HAVE YOU, CROSSY. JUST RELAX."

Then Blue was kissing Cross, slow, deep, all consuming. Cross couldn't see anything else but him.

The soft vibrating thing was eased into Cross' pussy, only trembling stronger once lodged deep in him. Cross couldn't stand it, his whole body shaking, trembling, straining from pure erotic euphoria. He's sure he made some sort of noise, but Blue muffled him better than anything else could.

When Blue finally broke their kiss, Cross tried to speak again. "i wanna- let me come, i-"

Blue shushed him, wiping his face and kissing his brow. "RELAX! WE'LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY! BUT THE PARTY HAS ONLY JUST STARTED, AND I DID HEAR THAT YOU UPSET SOMEONE RATHER BADLY, SO WE CAN'T POSSIBLY LET YOU OFF EASY."

Cross couldn't remember what was even going on anymore. All he knew was that there were hands on him, loving him, caring about him, and he couldn't come.

The mouth that had been sucking him like it owed him money slowly eased off. Cross couldn't be certain if it was the same one or not, but another body replaced the one holding him up, another mouth swallowing him to the hilt, nibbling gently with sharp canines and a talented tongue to sooth the pinch.

"BUT WE WILL KEEP YOU COMPANY! WON'T WE, INK?" Blue chirped.

"oh! hold on, i have my camera somewhere-" Ink squirmed in Cross' blurry vision. "say cheese~!"

Cross might have tried, if at that moment the string in his sacrum hadn't decided it wanted to rip itself out of him. He seized up, screaming with the ferocity of the most agonizing dry orgasm of his life.

"holy shit-" Ink murmured.

"THIS HAS TO BE WHY THEY LIKE HIM," Blue thought out loud.

The string started squirming itself back into Cross' sacrum, and he resigned himself to his punishment. He knew he wasn't getting out of there until Nightmare saved him.

He wasn't sure he wanted to be saved, anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look how mean we are  
> look how everyone is ganging up on him
> 
> cross is so bullied
> 
> good thing he likes that huh :3


	32. Day 31: Free to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompts:** Free day, any of the above, any combination, or whatever you want  
>  **Kinks:** Oral; Teasing; Size Difference; Overstimulation  
>  **Pairing:** MoneyCider (Swapfell!Papyrus / Dr33mtal3!Nightmare)  
>  **Warnings:** unrealistic portrayal of sexual activity; references to drug use; euphamisms to drug use  
>  **Length in Words:** ~1.2k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course, as soon as Cash existed in my pool of muses, he would take the free day
> 
> (and of course he would make it hatd for me)
> 
> testing out a new muse hahah

Cash liked to think he had two great loves in the world: drugs, and money. Sometimes he cheated on money with drugs, but money knew who he came home to at night. Money was his bottom bitch, his spouse, his obsession, or so Cash liked to say.

None of that explained why he was compelled to do some of the things he did.

Cash saw the dark little figure moving steadily down the hallway. Slow, measured strides with such short legs were easy to catch up to, easier yet to overtake. Nimble fingers took hold of one of the swaying tendrils that hung from the back of Nightmare's virgin killer sweater, tangling themselves with the tendril and snaring the two of them fast together.

" _If you were attempting to sneak up on me, you failed,_ " Nightmare said calmly, flipping a page of his book without looking up. He continued to walk blindly through his castle, confidence personified.

Cash teased at the tip of the tendril he had caught hold of, keeping pace. Nightmare's stride did not falter, but his wings took on a blush like cotton candy, blues and pinks blending together in delicious water colors. Cash always thought Nightmare was prettiest when he was angry (if only because he turned the color of money), but candy floss was a close second.

They walked like that a little further, Nightmare slowing down over time until, abruptly, he turned into one of the formerly empty rooms that had been outfitted as a livingroom. Quickly, as if fearing he would not make it, Nightmare made for the couch, crawling onto it and leaving his book abandoned on the coffee table. Nightmare hid his face in the back of the couch, taking deep, measured breaths as his wings stretched and trembled, his legs spreading under him as he balanced on his knees. The sweater hiked up, proving that if there was anything underneath the knitted garment, it wasn't pants.

Cash smirked, still thumbing idly at the tender, squirming mass in his hand, enjoying the satisfying sticky damp his patience was being rewarded with. Nightmare was always a gamble. Cash loved to make bets. He made a quiet little wager with himself, 53:1 saying Cash would get flung across the room if he got closer.

Cash got closer, reaching out and sinking his other hand into the tangled growth of Nightmare's unkempt wings. Nightmare made a soft, wheezed little whimper, the softness around Cash's hand going entirely pink, soaking his bones in even more sticky dampness. Cash smirked, enjoying the payout of his risk as he sat down beside the trembling creature.

It was hard to believe that this was the same Nightmare he met so long ago.

" _How dare you._ " Nightmare growled, clawing at the cushions.

"not hearing a no," Cash countered. He wasn't eating wall either, so there was that. Bet won. It was probably time to _cash out_ (heh), but he had every intention of letting it ride.

By which, in case it was unclear, he meant he was going to let Nightmare ride his dick. Or his face. Especially his face.

Deciding patience was overrated, Cash let go of both wing and tendril. He gave Nightmare a moment to catch his breath, then picked him up by the hips and lay back on the couch flat, Nightmare held over him. The creature's wings flapped and flailed in panicked madness, which only multiplied in its desperation when Cash tossed him into the air to turn him around. The anxious thrashing didn't stop until Nightmare's knees were settled securely on either side of Cash's head.

Cash smirked; not even any panties were in his way, Nightmare's pubic symphysis and obturator foramen flushed and damp and waiting for him.

" _What the fuck is wrong with you-?!_ " Nightmare demanded, glaring down at Cash, chest heaving erratically. 

"who knows." Cash stroked and teased at the joint of Nightmare's pubic symphysis with his finger, watching as the flush in Nightmare's face shifted back and forth between all his lovely colors. "but i found your problem right here. no underwear? were you waiting for me to notice? you know i can't resist free food."

" _You can not resist free anythi- nnngh-!!_ " The involuntary crack in Nightmare's voice was musical, a delight to hear. That it was caused by Cash's tongue curling around his obturator foramen was just food for the soul, validation made manifest. It was addictive.

Nightmare clung desperately to the couch arm, fighting to stay balanced. His tendrils coiled and clung to Cash, keeping him exactly where he was, where he wanted to be. Cash let him do as he liked, more interested in watching his face and huffing the powder that flaked off of his bones. Cash was glad he didn't have allergies, because there was a certain rush one got from breathing in the pink powder Nightmare shed as he was worked up.

Cash would smoke anything once. He'd smoke Nightmare as often as he could manage.

Nightmare squirmed, trembling above Cash at every flick of his tongue, at every deep breath he took. The powder was quickly turning to thick syrup, honey ooze ripe for the tasting. Cash's window of opportunity was closing (if he wanted more, he'd need to stick his face right up against Nightmare's back), but he didn't mind. He got to enjoy cleanup well enough too.

A few more scritches and kitten licks were enough to encourage Nightmare to summon his pussy. Without preamble, Cash dove his tongue up into the soft, warm folds, drinking in the sweet juices.

" _C-Cash, you-_ " Whatever Nightmare had intended to say was cut off as he bit back another, infinitely more interesting noise. Cash took that as a complement, bringing his one hand up to tease at the pert little clit trembling in his face. Nightmare's hips jerked, alternating between riding his face and flinching away.

Knowing just how to finish this, Cash let his other hand slide down his own body, reaching behind Nightmare to grip one of his tendrils. He stroked it, slow and easy just how Nightmare liked, watching what had once been the scourge of the multiverse fall apart by his hands (and tongue).

Cash wasn't really one for sweets, but it was at times like this that he could understand the honey addict's lifestyle. There was definitely an appeal to sugar that looked like that, drooling and crying and flushed as it trembled against his teeth.

Cash let go of the tentacle, using both hands to ease Nightmare up high enough to slide out from under him. A little more shuffling had the trembling pile of bones and slime in Cash's lap, clinging to his hoodie and hiding from the newly installed lights.

Cash settled in to enjoy his high, arms around his living bong. Later, he'd say it was pettiness, the look on sugar-boy's face when he eventually found Nightmare in Cash's lap. For now, he was fairly certain it was something else, something he thought had died in him so long ago, when the tiny bag in his pocket had first been filled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cash: lemme clean your seat -wipes face-

**Author's Note:**

> <3 Remember to leave a comment if you can! I love comments! And check out my other fics if you enjoyed these!


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